Shadow Dagger Ch. 04

Raynolt raised his arms to quiet the crowd. His arms quivered embarrassingly and he quickly dropped them.

Damn you Boltus! This should have been my moment of strength. No matter; I will make do with what I have.

The crowd fell silent. The room was mostly full. The council members, what was left of them, sat in the front row. Raynolt saw hundreds of pairs of eyes constantly flick toward the prisoner.

"My brothers and sisters, I have the most terrible news that the Emporium has ever heard."

He stopped and let the moment build. Everyone was focused on him. He could feel a strange tickling sensation race through his body. The power of the moment almost overwhelmed him then and there. He suppressed a smile.

Instead, he put on a mask of intense sorrow. "A battle has been fought here tonight; a battle I have longed warned you about. The Magi Victus have fired the first arrow of war. They have assassinated the Grand Master Boltus."

Screams of anger and denial roared through the room. Magi were on their feet and yelling at the top of their lungs. Several of the Magi had silver eyes glowing. More than a few were shooting murderous glares at the prisoner.

Raynolt let them yell for several long moments before raising his arms once more. This time his arms did not shake.

"I was there, my friends. The Grand Master invited me to his office to discuss my proposal about the war with the Magi Victus. When I approached his office, I heard the most terrible sounds of battle coming from within."

The crowd was drawn into his story. He could see all eyes focused on him. Nobody made a sound.

"I reached the office too late," he continued. He stopped and choked back a fake sob. He heard weeping in some sections of the benches. "I...my fellow Magi, I don't know how to explain it. The Grand Master was beset by three Magi Victus. And yet I arrived in time to witness Boltus incinerate two of them with one spell!"

He heard gasps of awe and more weeping. He hated having to make Boltus appear powerful, but it made his tale more believable. "Unfortunately, the spell took all of his strength and concentration. His protection spell weakened enough for this cowardly bastard to stab him in the back," he finished, pointing at the prisoner.

The Magi stood on their feet again and began hurling insults at the bound prisoner. The man had his head down. Raynolt couldn't see his expression from here. I wonder if he is afraid.

"This filthy demon noticed my entrance. We dueled and he managed to puncture my shoulder. I was able to still cast the Wall of Flame with my one good hand. He was not fast enough. He is just a pile of ash along with half of the Grand Master's office. And, of course, he somehow managed to take his Shadow Dagger with him into death."

Raynolt cursed Sanje in his head. He had been counting on presenting a Shadow Dagger to the council to strengthen his case. He hoped he still had enough sway to accomplish his goal.

Halas Winstrum, the 8th Tier Master, stood up. "Do you mean to tell us that you called up a Wall of Flame with one hand?"

The crowd fell silent to hear his answer. Raynolt raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Yes, of course." They are always amazed at my power. I just won't tell them who I really cast the spell at.

A murmur of astonishment swept through the room. Halas looked at Raynolt in wonder. "That is...very impressive, Raynolt. I hope that bastard died painfully."

Raynolt suppressed a smile. It seemed the feat he accomplished made up for the loss of the Shadow Dagger. "Thank you, Halas. And now I have more sad news to impart this night."

People were shaking their heads and bracing themselves for another blow. This blow was one Raynolt had not planned. "It seems that the Grand Master was not the first victim tonight. On their way through the Emporium, they must have encountered Darrius Northwood."

A grief-filled silence slowly filled the room. The council members shook their heads sadly. Darrius was the 5th Tier Master and was therefore a council member.

Halas looked around at his fellow council members and stood up. "Raynolt, has anything happened to Daminus?"

The seat on the council row where Daminus would sit was conspicuously empty. He was the second most powerful council member, next to Raynolt.

Nine hells! Corman and the others should have been back by now. "I am not aware of any danger to Daminus. However, I will send Lenard to investigate immediately." He nodded down at Lenard, who immediately left the Hall.

"Once Daminus is located, the 5th Tier must quickly elect a new master so that the council can appoint a new Grand Master. We can not give the Magi Victus any more opportunity to inflict damage. By the laws of this kingdom, only the King and Grand Master of the Guild of Magi can take military action against a country or group."

If it was silent before, the Hall was deafening now. This time Raynolt let himself smile as the will of the crowd was overwhelmingly for war.

***

Jon kept to the shadows as he led his makeshift group of companions to the quarter of the city that was scathingly referred to as "Beggar's Hell." He checked the streets to make sure it was deserted before he let the group move on.

Ashford offered his opinions once or twice about what he thought of their destination. Sophina said nothing; she just concentrated on making sure Evelyn was held securely in her grasp. It must have been a strong punch; Evelyn had been unconscious for over an hour now.

At last they arrived at the building he was looking for. It was surrounded by abandoned buildings and was home to countless beggars. The house he walked toward didn't appear to be in any better shape than its neighbors.

"This is where you are taking us?" Ashford asked incredulously. "You don't really expect me to stay there, do you?"

Jon turned around. "Would you prefer if I escort you back to your house? Or maybe to the Emporium?"

Ashford turned red in the light of the moon. Jon saw Sophina smile and wink. He returned the smile. "Just lead the way," Ashford replied sarcastically.

When they approached the door a beggar stepped out from the shadows next to the house. Jon felt Ashford and Sophina tense behind him. He held up his hand. "Marcus," he said to the beggar.

Marcus walked into the moonlight. At first glance he appeared to be an average beggar. His clothes were old and dirty. His long grey hair fell to his waist and a thick beard covered his face. His stench was almost overpowering. He knew Ashford and Sophina would dismiss him immediately.

They would be wrong. The moonlight reflected in his startlingly clear-blue eyes as he spoke. "Mr. Laurent, I had a feeling you would be here this evening. This is a bloody night. I went to sleep hoping the God would grant me dreams of beautiful women in my bed but instead I dreamed of rivers of blood and bone and could not sleep. Your work?"

"Some," Jon replied. "I need to do know the situation in this city."

Marcus looked beyond Jon and spotted his three companions. His eyes widened fearfully. He shrank back into the shadows. "I will find what it is you are looking for," he said, his voice echoing from the darkness that hid him. "But you must bring the payment. The payment, ok Master Laurent? I need the payment. The dreams are getting worse."

"I won't forget the payment," Jon replied quietly. He glanced back at his new companions. Ashford had a disgusted look on his face and Sophina looked bewildered. Jon turned back. "What is it Marcus? Why do you fear them?"

The man didn't answer. Jon sighed and walked up the steps to the front door. He turned the handle when Marcus spoke. "They are your sailors."

His voice held more madness than it usually did. That was when Jon paid the most attention. "What do you mean by 'my sailors'?"

"They work the sails. You steer the boat."

"Where do we sail Marcus? What is our destination?"

Marcus laughed. It raised the hair on Jon's arms. "I don't know...I don't know. It's hard to see. Too much blood. But I can see that you don't sail the sea. No, no, no, not the sea, not the sea."

"What? What do we sail on?" Jon prompted when Marcus fell silent.

"The fires of hell!" was the mad response. "The fires of hell! Don't you get it? I have seen rivers of fire and blood and you are the captain! The captain, Jon! All hands on deck! Man overboard! His flesh is cracking and peeling!"

Jon heard him laugh hysterically as he shuffled away. He opened the door and walked in. He waited until Ashford and Sophina crossed the threshold before he closed the door.

"Ok, what in the nine hells was that? And who the hell was that?" Ashford demanded.

"Just a beggar," Jon replied evasively. "And a mad one at that. This way," he said, pointing across the filthy living room.

Ashford walked gingerly across the floor as he continued to support Evelyn. The floor was carpeted with dust and broken bits of furniture. There were stairs to the right but those were collapsed in a pile of wood. The walls were falling apart. He could hear mice underfoot.

"What a lovely house you have, Master Laurent," Ashford said as Jon led them to the far wall of the living room. "I was thinking about getting one. Do you recommend any of the derelict buildings in this neighbor?"

"Oh shut up," Sophina snapped. She hefted Evelyn into a better position. "You should be thankful that you are alive."

"I would rather be dead," he replied, but quietly.

Jon ignored them as he scanned the brick wall in front of him. It was the only part of the house made from brick. He slid his hands across the wall, feeling his way. It should be around here somewhere...

"What are you doing? Have you lost your mind like your friend Marcus—"

Ashford snapped his mouth shut as there was a loud click. The wall shook and dust rained down from the ceiling. Jon rubbed his hands in satisfaction as the wall began to slide down into the floor, revealing a staircase that lead down into a dark passageway.

"Were you saying something?" he asked Ashford.

Ashford glared at him and mumbled something under his breath. Jon motioned them to follow as he made his way down the stairs. Light flared up the stairs as Jon put his foot down on the first step.

"Mage light," Ashford whispered from behind. "I shouldn't be surprised after that little show you put on earlier, but I still am."

Jon didn't reply as they continued their descent down into the earth. He reached the bottom and turned around to capture the reaction of the two following him.

"I'll be damned," Sophina said, awe-struck.

It was another house underneath the ruins of the house above. They were in his living room. Mage light shone down from the ceiling and illuminated his prized possessions. Various ancient pieces of weaponry and armor hung on the wall. Comfortable chairs surrounded a black-stoned fireplace. The rug under his feet was very old and very expensive. A hallway led further into the underground dwelling.

"You can set her down now," Jon told Sophina.

She blinked, tore her gaze away from the unexpected luxury of the room, and motioned Ashford to walk over to a nearby chair. They set her down carefully and stepped back, suddenly unsure of what to do now.

Jon motioned them to a circle of chairs surrounding the fireplace. They sat down gratefully. Ashford let out a sigh and began rubbing his calf muscles. Sophina rubbed her hands over her face. A mountain-weight of tension slid off their shoulders.

Jon felt an old pain as he watched them settle in. He walked to a nearby cupboard to get some wine and to clear his thoughts. He had just been forcibly reminded of Berrick, Sarah, and Jocelyn. He hadn't thought of them in years and he wanted to keep it that way.

He grabbed a bottle of his favorite wine, three glasses, and walked back over to the group. He poured each of them a glass full of wine and moved over to the fireplace. He grabbed the spare firewood next to the fireplace and quickly lit it with flint and tinder. He settled down in his chair and poured himself a glass of wine.

"I have to admit it, I am impressed," Ashford said. "Nobody would bother to look twice for this place. I assume that fireplace runs up through the walls to the roof?"

Jon nodded and sipped his wine. His thoughts were elsewhere. Three companions again. I hate coincidence. This has the God's smell all over it.

"You aren't much of a conversationalist, are you?" Ashford asked sarcastically.

"No," Jon replied.

Sophina laughed into her wine and started coughing. Ashford shot her a glare but she was too busy catching her breath.

"I am not the one to talk tonight, Ashford," Jon continued once Sophina regained her equilibrium. "I need to know what I am caught up in."

"What we are caught up in," Sophina added. Jon raised his glass to her in acknowledgement.

Ashford sighed and placed his glass on the table in front of him. He leaned back in his chair and looked wearily over at Jon.

"I have already told this tale to Daminus tonight and I really don't feel like going into it again. Suffice it to say, I believe Raynolt intends to assassinate King Reynar."

"What?" Sophina asked incredulously. "Assassinate King Reynar? But why would...how...what does this have to do with you?"

"It's a long story, Sophina. I don't care to get into it right now. I am very tired. But to satisfy your curiosity, my life and the life of my friends were bound to King Reynar magically. As long as we lived, nobody could ever touch him."

Jon leaned forward in his chair, intrigued despite his reluctance to get drawn in. "Magically bound? What do you mean?"

Ashford eyed Jon with a speculative look in his eyes. Jon knew what was coming. "Ok, I see I will have to tell my story again. But before I do, I want to know what happened tonight," Ashford replied, staring intently at Jon.

"What do you mean, what happened tonight?" Sophina asked. "I saw it just as clearly as you did. Jon killed those Magi without breaking a sweat."

"That's not the issue, Sophina," Ashford replied, never taking his eyes off Jon. "Mr. Laurent killed two 10th Tier Magi with magic."

Sophina looked at Jon, confusion painting her face. "So? What's the big deal?"

Ashford sighed, rubbing his eyes with his hands. "What are they teaching you people nowadays?"

Sophina blushed red and replied angrily, "I am well educated, I will have you know. I am not some country pumpkin who thought it would be an adventure to sign up with the Astuarian army."

Jon spoke before Ashford could, knowing the Magi would probably make the situation worse. "I don't think Ashford meant to insult your upbringing, Sophina. The knowledge of magic and the Magi Victus aren't well known, despite what the Magi believe."

Ashford snorted. "The history of the Magi is a history of Astuari. Every child should know this."

"Then I suggest you start from the beginning," Jon replied.

"The beginning?" Ashford asked.

"The very beginning," Jon said. "I think you and Sophina would both get something out of a little history lesson."

"Very well," Ashford sighed. Sophina nodded her thanks to Jon.

Jon hid a smile behind his wine glass. How very much like Sarah she is. He grimaced at the memory of a raven-haired woman laughing in delight as they rode their horses over the Segundi plains.

"Nearly three thousand years ago, the world balanced on the brink of destruction," Ashford began. "The city and country of Astuari back then was nowhere near what it is today. It was a fractured country ruled by dozens of warlords. I imagine it resembled something from the nine hells."

"What do you mean?" Sophina asked. She was sitting on the edge of the seat with a shine in her eyes.

A warrior woman with a thirst for knowledge? Jon mused.

"The whole world at that time was full of the vilest sins you could think of," Ashford elaborated. "Warlords were constantly raiding each other's cities. Women were raped, children were beaten to death, and opposing soldiers were frequently burned alive in huge bonfires. The warlords worshipped their own gods, abandoning the faith of the God."

"And this was the way of life. The people grew use to it. It didn't matter if they were the perpetrators or the victims; everyone succumbed to the darkness one way or the other."

"It couldn't have been that bad," Sophina said skeptically.

"We have reliable information from that period of time," Ashford replied evasively, waving his hand. "Anyways, the God was sickened by what humanity had become and the false gods that they worshipped. He was about to turn His back on the world and start over somewhere else. He was beginning to regret His decision to give humanity free will."

"And then?" Sophina prompted when Ashford fell silent. Jon had to give Ashford credit; he was a master story-teller. Jon already knew all this but was still intrigued by Ashford's story.

"And then came the Order of 12," Ashford said.

"I know them!" Sophina interrupted excitedly. "They were the founders of the Emporium. See Ashford, I am not the uneducated dunce you take me for."

Ashford rolled his eyes. "Yes, you are correct; though they didn't found the Emporium until much later. No, at first they didn't even know each other existed. In the height of human decadence, 12 individuals all over the country decided to stand up and fight back against the corruption of man. They were devout to the God when everyone else abandoned their faith."

"The God was intrigued as he watched these 12 individuals began having an effect on the people around them. Each of them quickly gathered up large groups of people who had enough with what the world had become. They wanted change. They wanted to be able to plant crops and not have to worry if they would be able to harvest them the next season. They didn't want to have to worry if their sons and daughters would take up with the warlords or become their victims."

"Because life was on the brink of destruction and they felt it. Money had no purpose because you killed to get what you wanted. There was no centralized government; no one to go to when there was injustice. All you had were the Warlords and you never wanted to pay the price they demanded."

"But then came 12 ordinary people who changed the world. They came from all walks of life; a farmer, a nobleman, a blacksmith, a poor merchant, a thief, a soldier, a mother of 2 Warlords, one of the few remaining knights, a whore, a scribe, a butcher, and a mercenary. Each one of these people decided they had enough, all for different reasons."

"And they began to talk to other people. And these people listened to what they said. Indeed, they were moved by the passion of their plea. Before the Warlords knew what happened, 12 people had gathered armies around themselves; armies that were willing to fight and die for what they believed. That belief made them strong."

"A new war was fought; a war to end the warlords' reign and to bring the world back from the brink of destruction. But the warlords were very skilled in battle and not easy to defeat. The God saw this and knew the outcome would be disastrous if He didn't interfere. So he summoned the 12 in their dreams to the Fields of Summer."

"The 12 led their battered and war-weary armies to the Fields. And the warlords rejoiced, thinking they had defeated the 12. Thus did the 12 gather for the first time. And each of the 12 saw a brother or sister in one another, for they were bound by the same grief and the same desire."

"The armies joined together and threw a huge feast. The 12 wandered off by themselves to discuss strategy. It was then that a deep fog rose up and cut them off from their army. They did not panic because the fog filled them with such peace and longing. They breathed in the fog and wept quietly."