Reign of Madness (Revised Edition) (16 page)

“Oh, no, Captain, you misunderstand. I
am
in service
of the Kingdom of Ashai and its rightful king. Rezkin is the King of Ashai,
while Caydean is the false king,” Kai explained.

“We will have to agree to disagree,” Jimson replied.

“Let me ask you this, Captain, Lieutenant,” Kai said nodding
to each of them. “If you are suddenly given the
legal
opportunity to
choose between two kings, both of whom have claim to the throne, would you
choose the evil tyrant who killed his own father and tortured and probably
killed his brother just for power, or would you choose the truly noble warrior
who stands up for justice and, given the choice, would turn down the offer of
power?”

Jimson’s eyes sought his friend. Rezkin met the captain’s
gaze unflinchingly. Jimson knew Rezkin did not want to be a king. It was true
that Rezkin made an art of manipulation to get people to do as he needed, but
he never did so cruelly or for any personal gain, as far as Jimson could tell.
When it was a matter of honor, Rezkin put aside his manipulations like he had
with the general regarding Frisha. In truth, Rezkin never needed to go to so
much trouble with manipulating people. As a Sword Bearer, he could simply order
them to do as he wished. He had the authority to issue the orders and the
skills to ensure they were followed. Quite simply, Rezkin did not seek power;
but then again, a man has little need to seek power when he has it already.
Except, that had not stopped Caydean from doing so.

Rezkin saved Jimson from answering the striker’s question.
“I doubt that was King Bordran’s intent,” he stated as all eyes turned to him.
“I will concede that he
may
have intended for me to wrest control of the
kingdom from Caydean; but if that was the case, then it was most likely to be
on behalf of Prince Thresson. I do not think Bordran would allow the throne to
slip from his family’s grasp. His blood has sat on the throne since the
founding of Ashai.”

“Prince Thresson is dead,” Kai snapped.

“You do not know that,” Rezkin countered. “Perhaps you were
not the only one who was uncomfortable with Caydean’s treatment of his brother.
It is possible the prince
was
spirited away, and he truly is missing.”

“Bah,” Kai scoffed. “You did not know Prince Thresson. He
was no king. He was a good man, but he was weak and timid. If he were to take
the throne, he would become merely a puppet to someone with ambition. As I said
before, King Bordran knew his sons’ worth, and he knew neither was fit to wear
the crown. More than likely, had he lived longer, he would have attempted to
produce another heir.”

“I thought Queen Lecillia could no longer bear children
after the last one,” Jimson remarked.

“Oh, that is the truth. Bordran loved Queen Lecillia, he
truly did,” Kai answered. “That would not have stopped him from doing what was
best for the kingdom, though. I thought it only a matter of time before he put
Lecillia aside on the grounds that she could no longer perform her duty as
queen by bearing royal children.”

Drascon protested, “The Council would never have approved
the measure. King Bordran already had two heirs.”

“Perhaps,” Kai replied. “But those on the Council knew the
princes as well as any, and they would have had concerns of their own.”

“I disagree,” said Jimson. “If Bordran intended to produce
another heir, he would have done so before the princes were grown and old
enough to understand their father’s machinations. As it was, both were grown
men who would have known what the king was up to if he
had
put aside the
queen.”

 “Yes, you may be correct,” Kai acceded. “It was folly
on Bordran’s part to wait so long. Bordran would have had a backup plan,
though,” he said as he looked pointedly at Rezkin.

“Rezkin, how did you know King Bordran?” Wesson asked with
curiosity.

“I did not. I never met the man,” Rezkin answered.

Wesson shook his head and replied, “You had to have met him
at some point. In order for him to design those aura-reading enchantments he
would have had to know your aura very well. He would need to be very close to
you for quite some time, within a few feet at least, probably touching
considering their strength. You do not remember meeting the king?”

“No,” Rezkin admitted, “but there were times when men I did
not know came to my home. It is possible I simply did not know who he was if he
visited. I do not recall being that close to any of them, though. Perhaps if I
was unconscious?” Rezkin shook the thought away and said, “It is late. We
depart early in the morning, and Kai has an appointment with the baron.” Rezkin
held Kai’s gaze as he firmly stated, “You have sworn an oath to me, and
regardless of my lack of desire to have it, I
will
hold you to it. I do
not take oaths lightly.”

“Nor do I give them lightly,” Kai replied.

“Very well,” said Rezkin. “We are leaving Teurning. Do you
have any possessions you need to retrieve?”

“I do. I rented a room not far from here. I can retrieve
them in the morning, assuming they are still there,” Kai explained.

Rezkin met the eyes of each man present and said, “I trust I
do not have to remind you that everything said in this room is to be kept
between us?”

After receiving assurances from all present that they would
not speak of anything that had been discussed, the two soldiers departed for
their own room. Rezkin knew he would not be sleeping that night with two
strangers in his room. He had other tasks to complete, anyhow.

“Journeyman, you are capable of constructing wards?” Rezkin
asked.

“Yes, my lord…ah…sir,” Wesson stammered. “I can construct
all of the basic wards, but most of the complex protective wards elude me
– the kind that use subtle magic to discourage others from attempting to
breach them or convince the mind that they do not exist. My strongest wards
tend to be…aggressive. When they are tampered with, they explode or cause other
painful or deadly effects.”

Rezkin raised a brow. “But, you
can
control the
effects? They are not random and unpredictable?”

“Oh, no! They do exactly what I create them to do,” Wesson
reassured. “And, I am not sure if it is relevant, but I can disable almost any
ward, as well. It is a destructive process, after all,” he said almost
sheepishly.

“Yes, that is good to know. Can you create a ward with the
aura reading capability?” Rezkin inquired.

Wesson shuffled his feet uncertainly. “Yes, but I have only
done so using my own aura. I would have to be very familiar with a person’s
aura in order to create one for another.”

“What would you need?” Rezkin asked.

“Well, I studied with my master for over ten years, and I
might
be able to create one for him from memory. If you wanted one for yourself right
now, I
may
be able to do so if we were in physical contact at the time
of construction,” Wesson explained.

“How long does it take to construct such a ward?” Rezkin
asked.

“It depends on the size of the ward, the complexity, and the
desired result. If you are protecting against other mages, it must be much more
complex than if you are protecting against mundanes. Since I have a natural
affinity for destructive magic, it would actually take me a little more time to
reign in the effects if you do not want the results to be fatal or messy.”

“You are saying it takes you
less
time to blow
someone up?” Kai asked with a chuckle.

The young mage shuffled his feet uncomfortably and said,
“Yes.”

“Very well. I would like for you to ward this room so that
no one can enter or leave except for you and me,” Rezkin stated. “You would be
warding against mundanes, and I do not want it to have serious side effects if
someone were to attempt to enter. I would not want one of our companions to
become…damaged.”

“Yes, well, that would be simple enough, except for the aura
reading part. A simple ward would do. It would merely block anyone else from
entering, as if it were a solid wall. The construction would only take a few
minutes, assuming I can get the aura reading for you correct.”

“What about
me
?” Kai asked.

Rezkin raised a brow and remarked, “
You
are the
prisoner.”

Kai huffed. “I thought we were past that.”

“Not until the baron rules on your case,” Rezkin replied.

“We are still going through with that?” Kai grumped.

“We are. Journeyman, please construct the ward,” Rezkin
ordered as he held out his arm.

Wesson quickly shuffled forward and anxiously grasped the
warrior’s wrist. The young mage did not know what to make of the strange man
that was his new employer. The man was a plethora of contradictions. He claimed
no desire for power, but he was willing to use it when it suited him. At times,
he was frightening and unmistakably deadly, while at others he was patient and
understanding. So far, Wesson had only known Rezkin for half a day, and already
the man was a dichotomy of commanding warrior and compassionate healer. His
demeanor seemed to be at odds with his personality, almost as if he were two
different people. Wesson had the feeling that he was standing on a point of
divergence. Exciting and potentially explosive events were coming, and Rezkin
was the catalyst.

After the mage set the ward on their room, Rezkin retrieved
his pack that contained his usual items and headed into the night. It was very
late, and the inn was already locked up tight, but Rezkin had ways around that.
The warrior exited through a window in the hallway and eventually climbed to
the roof of a building a few blocks from the inn. Hidden in the shadows of an
eave, he exchanged his dress clothes for his dark stealth gear. His longsword
would be more of a hindrance than help for what he had planned, so he wrapped
the sword and scabbard in a ragged cloth and tied it to his pack. He moved his
shortsword to a harness across his back so it would not interfere with his
movements and applied a dark paste to the silver crossguard and pommel to
prevent reflection.

He knew the general layout of the city from his studies, but
he still was uncertain as to his exact destination. First, he had to break into
the courthouse, which was actually only a couple of small rooms on one side of
City Hall. A short wall of only eight feet surrounded the building, and Rezkin
saw no guards other than the two stationed at the front gate and two others who
stayed together and seemed to roam the grounds randomly. Rezkin slipped over
the wall effortlessly and silently stole across the manicured lawn.

The first floor windows were latched, but a fine wire and hook
provided entry. Rezkin hefted himself through the opening and closed the window
behind him. He padded lightly across the wooden beams, eliciting only the
slightest creak that sounded like a trumpet blast to Rezkin’s ears but probably
could not have been heard from a few feet away. He did not have the floor plan
of this building memorized, so he would have to scout around for the office he
needed. Finding the courthouse turned out to be easy enough. Outside the door
stood two life-sized statues of Gorova and Munera, the mythical fae beings that
symbolized truth and justice. They were always depicted as tall, lanky,
effeminate males with long, fine hair, pointed ears much longer than those of
elves, and overlarge, tilted eyes that looked like mystical orbs. The two were
supposed to be either brothers or lovers, the legends were never really clear.

Rezkin had always considered it ironic that those two were
used as icons for the court system. Munera was a rational being that believed
in strict adherence to laws and regulations and maintained a conviction of no
tolerance. Gorova argued for compassion and mercy with hope of redemption for
the wicked. For untold years, the two men argued over the fates of those who
were found guilty. This was the reason for the use of the two as symbols for
Ashaiian justice.

The part that the general public tended to overlook was the
fact that the companions eventually turned on each other. Munera decided that
Gorova’s pleas for mercy perpetuated the commission of
more
crimes, and
as such, Gorova was complicit in those crimes. Gorova, on the other hand,
decided that Munera’s unflinching demands were cruel and heartless and that he
was responsible for the executions of many people who did not need to die.
Ultimately, the two killed each other.

Rezkin slipped through the small courtroom, which held only
large, bulky tables and chairs and nothing of interest. The office was at the
rear, the door cracked slightly ajar with warm, yellow light spilling through
the slit. Two male voices could be heard arguing in hushed tones. The young
warrior silently drew closer until he heard the words clearly.

“I
told
you, it needs to be disposed of before
someone else finds it!” one deep voice hissed.

“We should not be here! If someone finds us, it will draw
suspicion,” the second argued.

“Nobody is going to find us unless you keep blathering,” the
first responded.

“We can still salvage this,” the second argued. “It was that
lord that caused this mess. If we discredit him, then the baron will have to reinstate
you.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” the first inquired.

“Well, obviously, he must die. We simply have him killed and
position his body in a compromising position,” the second remarked.

The first asked with less hostility, “Like what?”

 “Well…nobody knows what happened with the tavern wench
except that damned Kai. One of ours got to her after he left. A few threats and
some gold and she will not be talking. Anyone looking at her can see what she
went through, through. We could put Lord Rezkin with
her
and make it
look like
he
raped and murdered the girl,” the second explained.

“Yes, of course, we would have to kill them both. What of
his companions?” asked the first.

“What of them? A few lords and a couple of soldiers can
hardly argue against the facts once his body is found,” the second argued.

“What if they do not believe the scene? What if they know it
is a setup?” the first asked.

“How would they know that? You know these noble types. They
are always dallying with the common girls since their snooty women are too good
to put out. More importantly, they worry more about their public images. Those
pompous twits will probably deny they even knew the man once word gets out.”

“Your plan includes a frightening number of assumptions and
‘
probably-s
,’ ” the first remarked.

“Would you rather that insolent bastard, Rezkin, walk around
getting his way while
you
make a run for it?” the second barked a little
too loudly.

“Ssshhhh!” the first hissed. “What I think is that both of
us will be lucky to get out of here with our heads if we do not get the book
before someone finds us. And, I agree that Lord Rezkin needs to die, but it is
unlikely to happen since he is leaving on the first ship in the morning.”

“Then we had best hurry. It must be done tonight,” the
second argued.

“Fine, but we will not pull any more schemes. We can have
the men make it look like an accident or robbery or something. We both need to
get out of this city before someone starts looking into our
other
affairs,” the first demanded.

“I am
not
leaving. If we leave, people will
immediately suspect something and start digging,” the second contended.

“Lord Rezkin leaves in the morning or he dies tonight. It
does not matter either way, because he will be out of the way.
You
can
stay and play mayor, but
I
am leaving. It will not appear suspicious if
I leave after I was humiliated and lost my post. The only thing linking us to
any crimes is that book, so get out of my way!” the first voice commanded.

The shuffling of feet indicated the men were now moving.
Rezkin slipped closer until he could peer through the crack near the hinges of
the door. He had already figured the arguing men were the magistrate and the
mayor. Now, he was waiting for them to retrieve the essential book of which the
magistrate spoke so he would not have to hunt for it.

“Is that it?” the second voice, which Rezkin now knew to be
the mayor, asked.

“Yes, of course,” the magistrate replied.

“Just burn it and be done with it,” Mayor Quey demanded.

“You do not want to know of the outstanding debts yet to be
collected?” the magistrate inquired.

After a moment of contemplation, the mayor replied, “No, it
is too risky now. Get rid of it.”

Rezkin chose that moment to intercede. He pushed the door
open and stepped into the room as he said, “I am afraid I cannot allow you to
do that.” Both men froze and stared as if they had forgotten how to move.
Rezkin closed the door casually and jammed the lock so that neither man could
escape while he was preoccupied.

“Wh-What are
you
doing here?” Magistrate Jiruthis
sneered.

“It seems I am preventing you from destroying evidence,”
Rezkin replied.

“What are you talking about?” Quey shouted. Rezkin raised a
brow, and Jiruthis scowled.

“Shut
up
, Quey! The guards will hear,” the magistrate
scolded.

“Not that it matters now that
he
is here,” the mayor
grumbled.

“Of course it matters! Since
he
came to us, our plan
will be that much easier to implement.” He lowered his voice and spoke sideways
out of his mouth, “There are two of us and only one of him.”

Rezkin cocked his head. Did the man really think he could
not hear? The entire building was silent as death, save for these two
imbeciles. Rezkin leaned casually against the door as the two argued back and
forth, plotting his death right in front of him.

“He is a Sword Bearer! That means he must be a Master, and
we have
what
? A couple of belt daggers?” the mayor argued.

“He is not even carrying his Sheyalin. That sword on his
back is much too short,” the magistrate argued.

“Sheyalin or not, he is still a Master, and I am sure he
knows how to use it,” Quey asserted.

At once, both men realized their folly and turned to stare
at Rezkin. Deciding it must be his turn to speak, Rezkin just nodded. “Yes, I
am well acquainted with this blade,” he said as he drew the Sheyalin from its
sheath. The small lantern gave off barely enough light to illuminate the room,
but the blue swirls glinted like silvery blue fish swimming beneath the surface
of a crystal stream. “This is my
other
Sheyalin, Bladesunder. I
apologize that I neglected to introduce you earlier when you met Kingslayer.”

Jiruthis gulped audibly and said, “Are you going to kill
us?”

Rezkin frowned and appeared conflicted as he replied, “I
had
originally intended to simply turn you in for whatever nefarious schemes you
have recorded in that book; but since I witnessed you plotting not only
my
death but that of the poor girl Quey’s son raped, I think I may have changed my
mind.”

The men exchanged worried glances. Mayor Quey’s face turned
pallid and broke into a cold sweat. Jiruthis licked his lips as he eyed the
sword and said, “So, what will you do to us?”

Rezkin looked down at the sword in his hand as though just
realizing he held it and shook his head. “Oh, no, this will not do,” he
remarked as he slid the blade back into the scabbard on his back. “You see, the
guards are going to find the two of you in a few hours, and they are going to
believe that you managed to kill each other. People will assume that Mayor Quey
was angry with you for not hanging his son’s killer, and you defended yourself.
Some might argue that you were angry with Quey for pressuring you into that
farce of a trial that lost you your position. I can assure you, though, that no
one will ever consider the fact that
I
was somehow involved.”

“Y-You expect us to kill each other?” Quey stammered.

Rezkin raised a brow. “Well, that
would
make my job
much easier, but I doubt you will be so accommodating. Or am I wrong?” Rezkin
queried, looking to both men as if genuinely in need of clarification. He
received two scowls in return. “No, I thought not. I will make it
look
like the two of you killed each other. Unfortunately, neither of you look to
have the
Skills
to kill efficiently, so I will have to rough you up a
bit, and the killing blows might get a bit messy,” he stated as if in
afterthought.

Mayor Quey scoffed, “You think we are going to stand here
while you beat us to death?”

“Actually, I hope you will fight back. It will make the
damage look much more believable. We need to give the impression of a struggle,
after all,” Rezkin explained.

“I am not going to stand here and listen to you discussing
our deaths like you are setting up a play,” the mayor sputtered.

Rezkin cocked his head and said, “I think you are missing
the point, Mayor Quey. You are about to die, and there is nothing you can do
about it.” The mayor’s eyes widened, and his mouth dropped.

Jiruthis had other ideas. “What do you want? You want
money?”

“What makes you think I can be bought?” Rezkin inquired.

“You would not be standing here discussing this so casually
if you truly wanted to kill us. You want something from us,” the man asserted
with a dark grin.

“You are right about the last part, at least. I do want
something from you,” Rezkin replied.

“And what is that?” Jiruthis inquired.

Rezkin shrugged indifferently and replied, “I want you to
die.”

In the blink of an eye, Rezkin was across the room standing
before the magistrate. His fists flew quickly on a planned path across the
man’s face and torso. He pulled his punches enough that the man would not
completely lose his faculties. Rezkin paused a moment to allow the magistrate
to collect himself. The man threw a punch, which Rezkin blocked with his forearm.
Jiruthis’s knuckles impacted the bracer and dagger strapped to the warrior’s
arm and split open. Satisfied that Jiruthis now had at least one offensive
wound, Rezkin grabbed a metal decanter off the desk and smashed it into the
former magistrate’s head with enough strength to split the man’s skull. The
entire interaction was over in mere moments.

The mayor stood in shock near the door. He yanked with all
his might on the handle, but the door would not budge. Rezkin’s icy gaze was
filled with an unnatural darkness as he stared at his prey. “I would prefer you
stand over here,” he said. “Where you are now just will not do.”

“W-Why are you doing this?” the mayor whimpered as he
plastered his back to the treasonous door.

“You plotted to kill me. You would have killed the tavern
girl. I am certain that when I look in that book I will find many more deaths
on your hands,” Rezkin replied tonelessly.

“B-but why all this? Why not just kill me quickly?” the
mayor sputtered.

Rezkin cocked his head and asked, “Did your victims die
quickly?”