Shadow Dagger Ch. 11

Raynolt said nothing. He remembered all too well the shield that had saved his life. The complexity of that shield was beyond anything Raynolt ever imagined. He was beginning to think that he was playing a game he didn't fully know the rules to.

When Raynolt didn't reply, Sanje continued. "I don't like this. I have a bad feeling. I don't think we know everything there is to know about King Reynar. When you told me how powerful he was, I just thought you were exaggerating in order to spare your ego. But now..."

"I don't know what game he is playing but does it really matter?" Raynolt asked. "We still need to kill Ashford Caulston in order to strip away that layer of protection. After that, we can worry about how we can kill him."

"Apparently, Reynar let Ashford leave with his life. We lost our chance to discover where Ashford is hiding," Sanje said carefully.

"I wouldn't worry about that," Raynolt replied, turning toward Sanje with a smile. "Three of my Magi who were at the Courtyard haven't reported back to me yet. They had instructions to keep an eye out for any of Laurent's companions, especially Ashford Caulston."

Sanje raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Do you think they found Laurent's hideout?"

"We will see here shortly. But enough of this; we need to discuss our plans. Do you have an idea of your casualties yet?"

Sanje sighed. "So far, it appears I lost thirteen of my men. What are your losses?"

"I don't have an exact figure yet but I would say over thirty Magi were killed today." Raynolt grimaced; he didn't like the ratio of Magi to Magi Victus casualties.

Sanje, however, nodded. "So far, it's going how I thought it would. There shouldn't be as many casualties in one day as there were today. From here on out, this will be a war of attrition."

Raynolt nodded with agreement. "Tomorrow, I will have a squad patrolling--"

"Master Victus! Come quick! Vance is back and he is acting strange!"

A Magi Victus had coming running across the roof. Sanje and Raynolt exchanged a look before they ran after the Magi Victus. He led them down the stairs, all the way through the building, and out the door to the street outside. A group of Magi Victus were huddled around another one of their number.

"Back off!" Sanje yelled. The Magi Victus parted and let him and Raynolt through. The Magi Victus in question, who was standing still with a dull expression on his face, gave no sign of recognizing his master.

"Vance! What is it?" Sanje grabbed his arm and shook him.

"Who is this man?" Raynolt demanded.

"Vance was one of the men I sent to find Laurent's body. Vance, what's wrong? Speak man!" Sanje shook him again.

Vance blinked slowly and looked over at Sanje. "It was so beautiful." His eyes had a faraway look. He grinned like a child.

Sanje looked over at Raynolt. "I don't see any runes on him, do you?"

Raynolt shook his head. "If he was affected by magic, the damage might have lingered after the spell wore off."

"He glowed like the sun," Vance said suddenly. "He spoke music to me. I didn't want him to leave."

To Raynolt's horror, the tall Magi Victus suddenly began to sob like a child denied a treat. "I begged him not to take the music away! But...but...but he didn't listen! He just kept singing to the body in his arms and not to me."

Sanje and Raynolt exchanged sharp looks. Sanje's grip tightened on Vance's arm. "Vance, what body? Who was singing?"

Vance sniffed and wiped his eyes with his arm. "The golden man was singing. The song was in my soul, I could feel it. The song told me to turn around and forget that I ever saw the golden man. But I couldn't do that! His song was too beautiful to ever forget. I just want it back." He sniffed again as more tears leaked out of his eyes.

"Does this make any sense to you?" Sanje asked Raynolt.

"I've heard there are some spells that can affect the mind," Raynolt said slowly. "Whatever it was, it sounds like it was meant to erase his memory."

Sanje shook Vance's arm again. "Listen to me, Vance. Who's body was in the golden man's arms?"

Vance looked at Sanje again. His eyes appeared to lose some of the faraway look. "Body? I...don't know...what's happening to me. Golden man?" Vance shook his head. "I remember...something."

"What?" Sanje pressed.

Vance's eyes suddenly opened wide. "I remember! I found Laurent! He was being carried by...by somebody! And then...I remember nothing...nothing but the song..." His eyes started to glaze over again.

Sanje shook him hard. Vance blinked and shook his head. "Laurent? Are you sure? This is important, Vance!"

Vance put his hands to his head. "My head hurts so much. Why did you have to wake me up? I was enjoying the song..."

"Damn the song, Vance! Did you see Laurent's body or not?"

Vance fell to his knees, gripping his head. "Sanje? Sanje...the song is too loud! Laurent? Yes...yes I saw him! The golden man sang to him! Breathed life back into him! I saw it! Laurent lives! Oh God, my head pounds like the sea! The song is too much!"

Vance suddenly jerked. He fell to his back and convulsed. His eyes rolled into the back of his head. Blood poured from his mouth, nose, and ears. The top of his head exploded, shooting brain matter across the cobbled street. The whole process only took a few moments; Vance stopped convulsing and lay still.

Sanje stared at Raynolt, completely unnerved. "What in the nine hells have we got ourselves into?"

Raynolt couldn't find the breath to answer.

***

The room was as beautiful as always. High windows with colored glass painted the room in a riot of colors. A throne stood up on a dais, under a direct beam of sunlight. The sun set off the sparkling of hundreds of precious jewels. It was a beautiful chair.

Jon stood in front of the throne and fought back the wave of bitterness that tried to wash over him. He reached out a hand to touch the arm of the chair. His finger stopped an inch from it.

"It wasn't fair, what happened to you."

Jon sighed and turned around. Sarah stood several feet away from him. Berrick was by her side. "Why do you care?" Jon asked, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.

Sarah hung her head and Berrick growled. "Stop acting like a child! You know we always loved you," Berrick said.

Jon turned around to stare at the throne. "Why am I not surprise to see you two here? Have you come to torment me further at the scene of my last betrayal?"

"You know why we are here," Sarah replied sadly.

Jon turned back around. "Forgiveness again? I have done as much as I can. I gave the sword away, Berrick. What more do you two want from me?"

Berrick stepped forward into a beam of multi-colored sunlight. "One last person remains. You need only forgive one last time."

Jon spat and pointed at the throne behind him. "How many betrayals do you want me to forgive? She took everything we stood for and died for and shat on it!"

Sarah stepped up next to Berrick. Her hair looked red under the light of the windows. "We don't ask your forgiveness for her," Sarah said, a uncharacteristic sneer on her lips. "She has to pay her own price for what she did."

Jon felt his anger slip away. He stared at Sarah and Berrick, trying to guess their game. "Then who?" he asked curiously.

Sarah stared at Jon with such sadness that he had to turn away. "You," she said.

Jon felt a weight suddenly tug at his waist. He glanced down and saw his Shadow Dagger sheathed on his belt. He looked up at Sarah and Berrick and back down at his dagger. He gripped it hard with his hand.

"No!" Jon growled. "There is no forgiveness for that."

"That is not for you to decide," Berrick said simply. "You knew the price when you agreed. He will forgive you; why can't you?"

Jon whipped out his Shadow Dagger and held it out in front of him. "You have no idea the price I paid! There is no forgiveness for what I had to do, why can't you see that? No matter how justified it was!"

"Jon--" Sarah began, but he cut her off.

"NO! You can't ask this of me!"

"Then you will never know peace," Berrick replied.

"There is no peace for me!" Blinded by tears, Jon raised the dagger high and then shoved it into his chest, straight into his heart.

Jon bolted upright in bed, clutching his chest. His body was drenched in sweat. He had been dreaming again. Sighing, he fell back and took deep breaths.Why am I dreaming these things of late? What do they mean?

It took him a few moments in silent contemplation before he heard the breathing of a sleeping person next to him. Startled, he sat up again and saw Sophina sitting next to his bed. Her head was hanging down and her chest was moving up and down slowly. Jon rubbed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. Where was he?

Little by little, fragments of memory started to come back. He had tried to assassinate Raynolt; he remembered that much. He squeezed his eyes and willed himself to remember more. Something went wrong. He remembered flashes of battle on rooftops. He remembered looking up into Sanje's face as he...as he...

Jon throw the blankets off of him and jumped out of bed. The sudden movement snapped Sophina awake. "Huh? Wha--Jon! You're awake!"

Jon ran toward her and grabbed her shoulders. "Where's Ashford?" he demanded.

Sophina looked down at him and blushed. "Jon...you don't...you don't have any clothes on."

Jon ignored her. He shook her urgently. "Where's Ashford?"

"In...in your guest room," Sophina spluttered. Her face was very red. "Umm...don't you want to put some clothes on?"

Jon let her go and ran toward his dresser. He opened the doors and quickly grabbed a tunic and trousers. He could feel Sophina's eyes on his back. He knew what she saw.

"Oh God," she breathed. "Your back...how did you get those scars?"

Jon threw on his shirt and tucked it into his trousers and belted his Shadow Dagger. Ignoring her question, he opened his door and made his way quickly to the guest room. He yanked open the door and stormed inside. Ashford was sitting up on the bed and talking to Marcus. They both looked around when the door crashed open.

"Jon--" Marcus began, but stopped when Jon strode swiftly across the room. Jon reached over the bed and grabbed Ashford by the collar of his shirt and dragged him out of the bed. He picked him off the floor and slammed him against the wall, his hand crushing his throat.

"Jon! What are you doing?" Sophina screamed from behind him.

"Who is he?" Jon yelled into Ashford's face. Ashford's hands were swatting feebly at Jon's iron grip. His face was turning redder and redder. "Where did he learn that magic?"

Jon felt a hand grab his forearm. "Jon, he can't breathe. Let him down. It's ok." Marcus' cool words seeped into Jon's enraged brain.

Jon turned away in disgust and let Ashford drop to the floor. Sophina gave him a scared look and rushed over to Ashford.

"Are you ok, Ash?" she asked gently.

Ashford was coughing roughly and massaging his throat. "Yeah," he wheezed.

Sophina turned and stared at Jon angrily. "What in the nine hells do you think you're doing? He's just recovered from near fatal wounds!"

Jon returned her angry stare with one of his own. She glanced down quickly. "I want some answers," Jon growled.

"Now is not the time for anger," Marcus said softly.

Jon switched his angry stare over to Marcus. Marcus wasn't cowed as easily as Sophina was. Jon noticed the heavy bags under Marcus' eyes and felt guilt creep over him. He could tell Marcus was in a great deal of pain. How long had it been since Marcus was able to take the drug?

Jon folded his arms over his chest and looked back down at Ashford. "I'm...sorry for losing my temper. I was taken by surprise yesterday. I'm not use to that feeling."

Ashford stood up with Sophina's help. He rubbed his throat again and glanced guiltily at Jon. "I don't blame you for reacting like that. I would be very angry, too."

"Will someone please tell me what's going on?" Sophina asked, looking between Ashford and Jon.

"It seems Ashford was withholding information about King Reynar. We wasted our time worrying about Raynolt."

"What does he mean?" Sophina asked, staring imploringly at Ashford.

Ashford shook his head and continued to rub his throat. "You have it all wrong, Jon. I'm just as surprised as you."

"Somehow I doubt that," Jon replied coldly. "You were his best friend. You can't tell me that you never noticed his power before."

Ashford sighed and sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. "We all loved Reynar very much. We wanted to protect him. I think, in doing so, we missed certain signs."

"Where did he get his power?" Jon repeated.

"What power are you talking about?" Sophina asked.

Jon glanced at her irritably. "When I attempted to kill Raynolt, he was suddenly protected by a very advanced shield spell. It was a spell I haven't seen since...long ago."

"I hate having to keep saying this, but what do you mean?" Sophina asked.

"It's time Jon," Marcus cut in suddenly.

Jon glanced at him sharply. "No," he said simply.I can't trust them...

Marcus seemed to know what he was thinking. "These are your companions, like it or not. You can't continue to leave them in the dark. You can't win that way. It's time to trust them with the truth."

"Truth?" Ashford repeated, looking from Jon to Marcus.

Marcus nodded wearily and sat down in the chair by the bed. "The truth behind everything; the history of the Magi and the Magi Victus...and the God."

It was so quiet in the room that Jon could hear Sophina's heart beating rapidly.Has it really come to this? Am I to risk everything again, only to know the bitter taste of betrayal? "There is no going back," he warned Marcus.

Marcus stared sadly back at Jon. "I know."

Jon shook his head, unsure of what to do. "Is this the path I'm supposed to take?"

Marcus looked away. "I don't know...I never saw any of this. I...I wasn't suppose to interfere." He turned back to Jon and smiled humorlessly. "Besides, since when did you care about what path you were on? You never believed in that stuff anyway."

"No, I didn't," Jon agreed quietly. He held Marcus' stare with his own. "But I always believed in you."

Marcus blinked and looked down at his hands. Jon thought he saw a tear drop down onto his lap. "Oh, Jon," Sophina whispered. Her eyes were brimming with tears.

"Yes...well..." Jon coughed. He hadn't meant to cause this kind of reaction. Feeling highly uncomfortable, Jon diverted the conversation back to safer waters. "I guess I really don't have a choice; I will tell you my history."

"Your history?" Ashford asked, confused. "I thought you were going to tell us the history of the Magi and of the God?"

Jon waved his hand. "I am old enough that my history has become the history of Astuari. They are intertwined."

Sophina sat down on the bed next to Ashford. She curled her legs up beneath her and stared politely at Jon. "How old are you?"

Jon looked over at Marcus, who still was hanging his head.I guess it really is time, Marcus. I hope this leads to something good. He took a deep breath. "My name is Jon d'Thelas san Ronar. I was born nearly 3,000 years ago in what is now the kingdom of Astuari."

Ashford's jaw dropped open. "But...but...Magi don't live nearly that long!" he sputtered.

"I'm not an ordinary Magi. Ashford, do you remember the first night I brought you and Sophina here? How you told us the history of the Magi?"

Ashford nodded, looking extremely confused. "Of course."

Jon looked at Sophina. "Do you remember that story?"

Sophina frowned thoughtfully. "Yes...I recall it. The Magi were founded by the Order of the 12 right? They were called to the Fields of Summer where they spoke to the God."

"Good," Jon replied. "I don't have to go over the beginning of that story again." He took another deep breath and looked at Ashford. "Ash, what I am about to tell you will shake you to your core. You have lived your whole life under the assumption that the history of the Magi is the truth. Well...it's not."

"What do you mean?" Ashford demanded. A shiver of apprehension seemed to pass through him.

"You were lied to. Well, not entirely. The history of the Magi is accurate up to the point where the God called the Order of the 12 to the Fields of Summer. However, the truth branches from there."

Jon saw Sophina grab Ashford's hand and hold it tight. Ashford continued to stare fearfully at Jon. "Go on," he breathed.

"The God gave the Order specific instructions. You were taught that the God forbade the Order from breeding with non-Magi, that the line of his gift was to be kept pure. Otherwise, the offspring of that union would be cursed."

"The Magi Victus," Ashford agreed, nodding.

"That was not what he told them. In fact, that was the opposite of what he instructed them. The Goddemanded that the Order only breed with non-Magi. He strictly forbade them from breeding with each other."

Ashford stared incredulously at Jon. "But that doesn't make any sense! If we only bred with non-Magi, magic would have died off!"

"The God strictly forbade the Order from breeding with each other; however, once the line of his gift had been diluted by three generations of mixing with non-Magi, then Magi from that generation could marry and bred together, keeping alive the line of his gift."

Ashford shook his head. "Even if that were true, why would he want that?"

"The God's aim was to greatly reduce the power of his gift. He didn't want Magi to rule the world; he wanted them to help guide it."

Ashford continued to shake his head, as though to deny Jon's words. "You're mistaken! It can't be true!"

"Why?" Jon asked quietly.

"Because then there would be no Magi Victus! They are the result of mixing with non-Magi!"

"No, they are not," Jon snapped. The steel in his words made Sophina and Ashford flinch.

Ashford still looked unconvinced. "Why should I believe you? How do I know you are even telling the truth? How do you know all of this?"

Jon stared steadily back at Ashford. "I told you, I was born nearly 3,000 years ago when all of this took place."

Sophina jumped to her feet suddenly. She was staring at Jon with wide, awe-struck eyes. She pointed a shaking finger at him. "You...you're one of the Order of 12!"

A heavy silence fell across the room. Ashford's eyes were nearly popping out of his head. "No, that's impossible!"

Jon looked between Sophina and Ashford for several long moments. They were both holding their breath and staring intensely at him.

Jon smiled and Marcus snorted in amusement from his chair by the bed. Jon struggled to control his smile. Sophina, catching on, blushed in embarrassment. Ashford, however, looked bewildered. "What?" he demanded.

Jon, Sophina, and Marcus roared with laughter. Ashford looked around as though everyone had gone mad. Jon wiped a tear from his eye and struggled to catch his breath. "Sorry...I'm not...one of the Order."

Ashford's cheeks reddened instantly. "You have a weird sense of humor!"

Jon sighed. "I haven't laughed like that in a long time. Sophina, believe me, if I were one of the Order of 12, we wouldn't be having this discussion right now."

"Oh come on, Jon, she was actually pretty close," Marcus chimed in.

That wiped the smiles from Sophina and Ashford. They turned wide-eyes back on Jon. Jon scowled over at Marcus. He shrugged, a smile twitching the corners of his lips.

"Well, who in the nine hells are you?" Ashford demanded.

"You don't recognize my name?" Jon asked. "Jon d'Thelas san Ronar?"

Sophina shook her head immediately. Ashford, however, frowned thoughtfully. "Jon d'Thelas san Ronar..." he repeated. "D'Thelas? Thelas..." He shook his head. "I don't recognize that name. San Ronar...Ronar...Ronar..." He repeated the word to himself, as though trying to recall the taste of a childhood sweet. His eyes suddenly widened in wonder. "No...could it be? Roshard?"