Free the Darkness (King's Dark Tidings Book 1) (58 page)

“How much was stolen?” Frisha asked with wide eyes.

“That is the strange part. Only two items were stolen from
the safe deposit boxes. The money and treasures were not touched. It had to be
The Raven, but I cannot imagine why he would go through so much trouble to
break into the second most secure bank in the kingdom and not take a fortune.”

“How did he get in?” Tam asked excitedly. It reminded Frisha
of his excitement over those books he would read as a kid…
still
read.

“They still have no idea how he did it. Even the mages are
clueless. There was absolutely no evidence of him having been there except the
fact that the two items were missing.” Marcum ran a frustrated hand through his
hair. “We assume it was him since he was in Justain at the time, and it would
have to be someone of considerable
…
no,
inconceivable
skill. Some
are saying he did it just to prove he could. Others are saying those two items
had to be worth a king’s ransom. One thing is for certain. News of the
accomplishment has significantly aided his cause. Thieves tend to flock to
either the strongest, most skilled leader or the fiercest. They are all
terrified of The Raven,
and
they respect him.”

“What is the king doing about it?” Jimson asked.

Marcum flicked a glance at the captain but looked away when
he said, “Nothing.”

Jimson’s jaw dropped. “Nothing?” he asked in disbelief.

On the one hand, Rezkin was glad to hear that the king and
his forces would not be interfering with his plans. On the other, it was
disturbing that the monarch responsible for the welfare of the kingdom would
not concern himself with the rise of a criminal overlord whose kingdomwide
influence could undermine and destabilize the reigning institutional power
structure and ultimately result in the development of an insidious demagogical
paradigm that could infiltrate and overturn the entire monarchy.

The general grumbled under his breath and said, “The king
has
other
things to worry about right now. He is not concerned with a
‘lowly
gutterrat who leads nothing but other lowly gutterrats.
’”

“Marcum!” Lady Adelina gasped at her husband’s use of the
foul language in mixed company.

“Not
my
words, Adelina,” Marcum barked. Everyone was
shocked that the king would say such a thing. “Listen to me,” he said as he met
their gazes. “Go to Skutton. Get out of this city for a while. Maybe The
Raven’s influence will not cross the sea. By the time you return, hopefully,
things will have settled down.”

Rezkin thought it interesting to watch the reactions and
conjectures of the outworlders toward his actions. They made it seem like he
had devised some master plan to create a criminal empire. In fact, taking over
that first guild had been an impulse. Taking over the second became necessary
in order to prevent the first from becoming completely decimated, and he wanted
all of the small-men and -women to have better lives.  By then he had
decided that the thieves’ guilds would serve as a decent information network,
which he needed since he could no longer depend on the strikers at the
fortress. Thoughts of the fortress and its now-deceased inhabitants caused that
odd tightening in his chest again. Rezkin thought perhaps he had developed some
sort of psychological disorder related to the fortress. He would have to work
to negate the weakness.

The news of the criminal overlord had been a heavy weight on
the group, and the party split up shortly thereafter. Reaylin accepted Lady
Adelina’s offer to stay the night since they would be leaving so early in the
morning. The young woman already carried her pack with her, so it was no
trouble. Besides, one really wanted her to leave in the dark, especially with
The Raven
skulking about
, as Lady Adelina put it.

Captain Jimson returned to the barracks where he would meet
up with the other two soldiers the general assigned to their detail. He was to
meet back at the estate for a final briefing over breakfast in the morning. The
Lady had requested breakfast be served an hour before dawn, far earlier than
usual, but she wanted to send them off with full stomachs and a fond farewell.

When they all gathered at the table the next morning,
General Marcum was pale and worn, and he had dark circles under his eyes from
lack of sleep. As they were finishing the last bites of their meal and talking
amiably, he rapped his knuckles on the table. “Something…something happened
last night…” he trailed off before resuming. “Something happened that normally
I would not share, but I feel I must for your own safety. I have no desire to
cause you alarm, but you must understand the potential dangers we are facing. I
received confidential information during the night. I would share it with you,
but I expect none of you to speak of it.”

“Oh, dear, Marcum. If the king ordered you not to speak of
it, perhaps you should not,” Adelina offered.

Marcum scowled. “The king gave no such order. He is not yet
aware of this information. It
is my prerogative to speak of it with whom
I please.”

“Oh, my apologies, dear,” Adelina acquiesced.

“As I was saying, something occurred yesterday…something
impossible. The Black Hall fell to The Raven.” The room was completely silent
as every jaw dropped. Everyone knew the rumors of the Black Hall. Bards sang
the tales, authors designed fantastical thrillers around it and its
inhabitants, and little boys wrapped black cloths around their faces and
tumbled around with sticks in their hands playing
Slips
.

Tam was the first to work his mouth properly. “I thought the
Black Hall was just a story.”

Marcum grumbled. “No, the Black Hall is very real. Every
assassin in Ashai, and some outside of it, now owe fealty to The Raven.”

“He is taking over the entire Ashaiian underworld,” Jimson
remarked. “No King of Thieves…King of the Underwold, more like.”

“I am curious, General,” Rezkin interjected. “How did you
get your information?”

Marcum gripped the edge of the table and then sighed as he
released his hold. “That is the second piece of information I need to tell you.
A Slip came to me last night while I was returning from the stable.” Even
Rezkin was surprised. He had expressly ordered the Slips to stay
away
from Marcum.

Lady Adelina gasped and swayed, and Captain Jimson reached
out to steady the woman. “W-What did he want, Marcum?” the lady asked, her
voice shaking.

“Be well, Ady, I am not dead.  The Slip did not bring
dark
tidings
this time – the opposite, really.  The Raven claims to
have business with me, or so he told the Black Hall.”

“Do you?” Adelina interrupted.

“Not as far as I am aware. I have no idea who he is, so I
could not say for sure. I have dealings with people all over the kingdom, as is
my job as General of the Army. This Slip said The Raven decreed that he would
take care of me himself, if necessary, and that the Black Hall was to accept no
contracts against me or my family,” Marcum informed them with a pointed look at
his wife and niece. “But, after The Raven left the Black Hall, the Slips received
just such a request.”

Now, that
was
news to Rezkin. He had just spoken with
the Grandmaster about the General and then someone suddenly showed up with a
kill order. Impeccable timing.

Marcum continued, “The Slip was here to warn me about the
hit.”

“What? Why would they do that?” Adelina gasped.

“He said the Black Hall did not want to anger The Raven.
Since they could not get in contact with him so quickly, the Grandmaster made
the decision to break with tradition and warn the intended target –
me
– that someone was trying to have me killed. The Slip said it was to show
The Raven that they were attempting, in good faith, to abide by his wishes,
even if it meant overstepping by warning me.”

Going so far was to
warn
the general was a surprising
response from the guild with regard to Rezkin’s directive not to harm Marcum
and his family. Rezkin told the guild he had business with the general and
would take care of the man himself simply because he did not want them thinking
he had a personal interest in the general’s welfare when he told them not to
assassinate the man. Rezkin preferred to reserve assassinations for those who
were deserving of it, and although the general hated Rezkin, Marcum was still a
good man and a great general. The young warrior also wanted to protect Frisha
from the potential heartache of something untoward happening to her beloved
aunt and uncle.

 “You are saying that this Raven even has the Black
Hall quaking in their boots?” Jimson inquired incredulously.

Marcum nodded once. “Yes. In fact, the Slip called him
Riel’gesh. If they have truly declared the man Riel’gesh, then
everyone
is in serious danger.”

“Why? What’s Riel’gesh?” Tam asked with more enthusiasm than
the circumstances warranted.

“Riel’gesh means
Giver of Life
,” Marcum stated.

“Oh, well, that doesn’t sound too bad,” Frisha commented.

Marcum shook his head. “You have to remember, Frisha, this
is a title issued by assassins. It means they believe this new leader as
indomitable
.
They believe that no one can defeat him. He is so skilled and deadly that he
can afford to allow his enemies to live. He has the ultimate power to grant
life where others would require death, solely because he has no reason to fear.
He is practically a
god
in their eyes.”

The general paused to gather his thoughts and then
continued. “The Assassin’s Guild is just that – a guild. It is a
commercial enterprise comprised of individuals selling their services for a
profit. The members work for the common good of the guild. If they feel the
Grandmaster is failing to work toward the good of the guild, they will remove
him. However, assassins have a strict set of rules and beliefs by which they
live and operate. It is almost a religion in itself.

“By declaring The Raven Riel’gesh, they are essentially
admitting defeat and declaring fealty to him. This changes the way they
operate. Now, they function more like a cult. They will do whatever he commands
of them, regardless of the outcome. He could order them to kill every man,
woman, and child in Ashai; or he could order them to fall on their own blades,
and it would be so. More so, Riel’gesh is a term recognized by assassins in
every
kingdom. Other assassins’ guilds may not recognize him as Riel’gesh, but they
will acknowledge that the Ashaiian guild
does
. He will be honored as
such, but he will also be tested. I am no expert in matters of assassins, but
to my knowledge, no one has ever actually held the position. For men and women
who value such abilities, it was more of a theoretical or spiritual belief in a
higher being, an individual with inhuman skill. They do not take the
declaration of Riel’gesh lightly.”

“So, Riel’gesh is like the assassins’ version of the stories
of demigods?” Tam asked with interest. “Like the heroes who have godlike
strength or speed and go on great adventures battling beasts of myth and
toppling evil armies and empires?”

“Something like that,” the general conceded. “Only this one
is a villain.”

Rezkin had an academic understanding of the significance of
the title of Riel’gesh but had not actually considered the reality of his
newfound power. The young warrior did not care for power simply for the sake of
power. He only cared that he had the resources to do what was necessary. He
needed to protect and honor his friends, and he needed to find Striker Farson.
Beyond that, he cared little about the Assassins’ Guild.

Rezkin
was
a little miffed that the general referred
to him as a villain. Rezkin’s personnel might be criminals, but all of the
policies he had instituted had been for the betterment of society. He protected
more people than he hurt, and the ones he did hurt were criminals in their own
right. The thieves and assassins simply were not aware of his ulterior motives.
He had to satisfy himself with the knowledge that the general did not know this
either.

“It sounds like he may have some serious trouble if
assassins from other kingdoms will seek to test him,” Jimson observed.

“Indeed, but I doubt they will concern themselves with him
so long as he remains in Ashai,” Marcum replied.

“And, the king will do nothing about him?” the Captain asked
cautiously.

“I do not know. I will try to meet with him today, but there
is no guarantee he will even grant
me
an audience,” Marcum sighed. At
their questioning looks he explained, “King Caydean keeps to himself these days
when he is not holding court, and he holds court less and less. If he seeks
counsel, he does not do so from
me
, but I will see what I can do.”

“Perhaps it would be wise not to mention it to the king just
yet,” Rezkin interrupted.

Marcum frowned. “Why would that be?”

“For one thing, the king may wonder exactly what business
you have with The Raven,” Rezkin said.

“I told you, I have none,” Marcum argued.

“I might be inclined to believe that you
believe
you
have none, but will the king?” the young man asked. Marcum narrowed his eyes.
“It appears this Raven has granted you protection, or at least immunity, from
the Slips’ designs. The king may wonder how you gained the favor of such a
man.”

“No one said I was in his favor. He said he would take care
of me himself if it was necessary. That does not imply favor. It means he wants
something from me, and whatever it is, I will not be inclined to grant it,”
Marcum asserted.

Rezkin glanced meaningfully at Adelina and Frisha and
remarked, “Perhaps the king will believe you are compromised. At the very
least, it would appear suspicious. If the rumors of Caydean’s mad paranoia are
true, he may not see reason. There is also the matter of who paid to have you
killed. It is a great risk to place a target on the General of the Army. It
seems such a man would require a good amount of wealth and even more
reason
to want such a high profile target dead. It could even be someone in the palace
itself.”