Secrets at the Keep (Kingdom of Denall Book 2) (18 page)

Trae and Dune pulled up to Omer’s Keep as the last snow fell on the ground. The mild two months of winter had slowed down their travel slightly, but fortunately the light snows had not kept them from moving on most days. Since the encounter with Genea, Dune had been driven to get to Omer’s Keep. He wanted to stop Melna, but just as important, he wanted to make sure no more magicians were abused.

“How are we going to get in there?” Trae asked as they stood outside the gates of the large keep. Dune shrugged his shoulders, but did not respond.

They remained quiet as a soldier in a sharp uniform came up to the gate. “This way, Master Magician,” the guard said as he bowed low and opened the gate for the pair to enter. Dune inclined his head slightly but did not speak.

“That was odd,” Trae said when they had passed out of the guard’s hearing range.

Dune nodded, but remained quiet. Instead he placed one finger on his lips to motion for silence as they neared the fortress.

At the large entrance, they dismounted and handed their reins to a stable boy. Dune held his hand out, then a coin appeared in the air. He tossed the small silver piece to the stable boy whose eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his head.

“Come this way,” another servant directed as they entered the keep. He led them through the spacious entry hall and up a spiral staircase that ascended to the finer quarters of the keep. When they came to an upper level, the servant ushered them into a small, private dining room. The man bowed and backed out of the room, leaving Trae and Dune alone.

“You’ve got to admit…” Trae began talking, but again Dune waved him to silence.

Dune looked around the room suspiciously, then handed Trae the end of a short piece of rope. “I don’t know who they think I am, but for now I’ll let them keep thinking it.”

“What’s with the rope?” Trae said, holding one end of the normal looking string.

“It guards from even the strongest listeners.” Trae nodded his head, impressed by this magical string. “But it is limited. You need at least two people holding it, and it doesn’t block out all sound, it just makes us sound like we’re talking in unintelligible mumbles.”

“I still think it’s a pretty great invention.” Trae said enthusiastically. “I think Omer is a lazy bag of pig slop.” Trae called out while making sure to hold the magical rope. He laughed out loud. “These fools all think that we’re actually supposed to be here.” He raised his voice toward the door where the servant had exited. “Hey guy in the uptight servant get up, we’re actually here to kidnap one of Omer’s guests. Would you mind finding Melna for us?” He grinned again.

Dune gave him a blank stare, not even flinching or cracking the slightest smile.

“Yes it will suffice.” Dune said, regarding the rope. “When they come back, you will act as my bodyguard, try not to say too much until we know what they want from this master magician. And if you don’t watch your mouth, I’ll have
you
wearing uptight servant’s get up, and perhaps sporting a new face to match. I do miss your Lexingar look.” Trae nodded, not sure whether Dune was being serious or not. It was almost always impossible to tell.

Dune pulled the string and hid it in the sleeve of his robe when two servants entered, carrying a tray of food and beverages. The first placed the spread on the table, and the second filled their goblets. “If you need anything else, ring this bell and Arnold will be at your service.” The first servant motioned to the second man who had come in behind him, carrying the beverages.

“Thank you,” Dune said with the slightest incline of his head. “I do have one question.”

“How can I be of assistance?” the first man asked.

Dune wasted no time getting to the point. “When will I be meeting with Lord Omer?”

The man shifted slightly as if uncomfortable with the request. “As you arrived three days early, we were not prepared to receive you properly. Lord Omer will be ready to give you a reception tomorrow evening.”

“Will you please inform Lord Omer that if I have not had an audience with him before that reception, he will have a party without the guest of honor?” Dune spoke with authority and arrogance, as if he expected every word he spoke to be obeyed without question.

The servant went pale white at this pronouncement. It was obvious that he feared Omer’s wrath, but did not know whether to fear the master magician more. He tentatively spoke. “I will relay the message.” Dune waved his hand dismissively.

The servants left the room and the two men were alone again. Dune saw that Trae was about to speak, so he handed him the end of the string. “Was that really necessary? I think you could have literally scared him to death.”

Dune shook his head as he bit into a piece of fruit. “I have dealt with too many barons and wealthy landowners to let this man ignore us. Besides, we only have three days before the other magician arrives. We need to figure out what he’s doing and find Melna. We can’t waste any time.”

They enjoyed their food in silence and retired to the adjoining quarters for the evening. When they woke the next morning, a summons in bold cursive writing had been slipped under their door. Trae opened it and smiled to Dune. “We will be meeting our host at noon. We are to dress in warm clothing. I guess we’ll be going outside for something.” When Dune gave no more response than a slight nod, Trae asked, “What is it?”

Dune leaned forward in his seat. “Many estate owners have magicians cast fertility spells on their soil, but usually that is in the early spring. Whatever the case, we’ll find out soon.”

After dressing, Dune crossed the room and pulled down on the thick golden colored rope that hung from the ceiling. Within moments, a servant entered with a tray of food for breakfast. He bowed deeply and after delivering the meal, addressed Dune. “You will be meeting with Lord Omer in the lower dining hall at noon, then moving outside. Your horses will be saddled and waiting. If you need anything, please ring.”

“Thank you,” Dune answered absently as he grabbed a thin slice of meat from the tray. The servant bowed deeply, turned sharply, and exited the room.

When the room was clear, Trae joined Dune and eagerly cleaned the platter. “The food here is amazing!” he said through a full mouth as he scarfed down the last roll.

“Was it? I didn’t get much, perhaps I should ring for another tray.” Trae looked up excited. “I am not being serious! We need to act like gentlemen, not starved vagabonds.”

“But we are starved vagabonds, and who knows when we’ll eat this well again.”

“I’ll tell you when we’ll eat like this again; never. Especially if you keep acting like you don’t belong here.” He gave Trae a penetrating look, and then softened slightly. “Sorry, I know this must be very exciting for you, but no matter what we are given, you need to act as though it is what we deserve, or slightly beneath what we deserve.”

Trae nodded, “Do you ever get tired of acting that way?”

“I hate it, it’s exhausting! But I am the master magician,” he placed his head down in his hands in frustration. “We need to do some exploring. But if Melna is around she will certainly recognize me.”

“Well nobody here has seen me with my normal face, so I’m pretty safe. I can check in with the servants, see if there is anything interesting to report.”

“That sounds good,” Dune replied. “Just be careful. If anyone asks we’re from Norwell. I think you should go by Trae again. If Melna is around and she hears the name Trevor with a magician, it might raise her suspicions.” Trae nodded, then ducked out of the quarters.

Dune sat on the sofa trying to think through everything. He generally tried to observe what was happening around him, but he was not nearly as good at is as Kire. That man really did seem like a mind reader. Before he had been alone for long, a knock came on the door. He walked cautiously to the door and, through a peephole, saw an unfamiliar man standing outside. He was dressed in light body armor and he was large, built like a strongarm, but he was not carrying a weapon. Dune opened the door cautiously. “Hello?”

The man pushed his way in and quickly shut the door behind himself. Dune immediately prepared a ball of hardened air to throw at the man.

“Finally, the bodyguard is gone,” the man said. He walked into the room casually in a familiar way as if Dune should have known who he was. He waited, not sure how to respond. The man lounged on an overstuffed chair. He looked up to Dune and smiled, “You look confused,” he said, “I would think a master magician in training would be able to figure out who I am.” He lifted his hand to his head and pulled back the bandana he was wearing showing three intellect marks. “It’s me, Scar.”

Dune, still not knowing who this person was, or why he should know him, tried to act casual. He smiled and nodded, then moved to sit down on the sofa across from Scar. “How are things proceeding?” he asked, hoping that the vague question would lead to some understanding.

“Well now that you’re here we can get moving,” he answered.

Dune was not happy with the equally vague response. “I have a meeting with Omer today, so we’ll need to wait until after that is done.”

“Of course, of course,” Scar waved him off dismissively. “Make it look good, then we can do what you’ve really come for.”

“Let’s go over the details one final time,” Dune prodded.

“Certainly,” Scar said as he lazily laid back in the sofa. “What’s the password?”

Dune stopped for a moment, not sure how to respond. He needed information from Scar, and he had no access to any kind of password. He reached out with hardened air and made a trap around Scar. He twisted the man until he was upright and moved him in the air slowly twisting him until he stood hovering in the air one foot from Dune’s face. The air cage began to constrict slowly first pressing Scar’s arms to his side, then squeezing him until it was clear he was uncomfortable, but not injured. “I am not here to play games,” Dune said in a fierce voice. “You don’t come in here, lounge on my sofa and tell me what to do. Review the details of the plan or I will crush you and find someone else to replace you.”

Dune turned his back on Scar and began pacing across the room while he left him hanging in the air. With a hint of fear in his voice, but trying to hide it, Scar spoke, “We will be leaving as soon as possible to meet Mordyar’s small advanced force of one thousand at the docking bay. We will bring three hundred slaves, one hundred soldiers and carts of supplies. When we meet them at the shore, you’ll do your thing,” he rolled his eyes around as if trying to wave his hands but they were still tight at his sides, “and then we’ll disappear until the invasion is over.”

Dune walked up to Scar again, still hanging in the air. He lowered the man to his feet, but continued to hold him in a stare. “How much do you know about my ‘thing’?” he asked, hoping the trapped man would give him some kind of clue as to what he was up to.

Scar looked confused for a moment, “Is this some kind of test?” he asked. He reached down to his left arm and pulled up his sleeve showing that he had strength marks as well as the intellect marks on his forehead. “It’s me, I’m no imposter,” he said defensively. “You and the master magician we’re meeting out east are going to make some kind of magic connection between the slaves and the soldiers, then we’ll kill the slaves, adding the power of their marks to Mordyar’s soldiers.”

Dune tried to hide his shock as he faced Scar. Transferring gifts was a rare thing. It naturally occurred only if two people had a strong bond and one of them died while in contact with the other. Most times it happened was when a mother died in child birth and gave her gift to a child. He had never heard of it being duplicated using magic, and the prospects seemed frighteningly daunting. This man talked about killing three hundred men like it was nothing. Before he could respond, Scar continued. “It’s just too bad for you that Melna wasn’t able to bring her daughter.”

“Excuse me?” Dune asked. The mention of Genea made him no longer care if he seemed like he didn’t know what this man was talking about anymore.

“You know, the magician girl. The one that was going to be used to enhance your gift. I guess that’s just too bad for you.” He must have seen the hatred and anger in Dune’s eyes and mistaken it for annoyance, as he quickly added, “But I’m sure you’ll still be able to make things work out. You seem like a very talented magician.”

Dune took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. He wanted to crush this man and then hunt down Melna and Omer, but he knew that was impossible. He needed to calm down and process everything that he had learned. But it seemed like too much to swallow. He raised his hand in the air and released Scar from the invisible cage. “After I meet with Omer we’ll decide on a time to leave. Until then, don’t make contact with me again.” Scar nodded as he backed up to the door and out into the hallway. When the door closed tight, Dune sank down on the sofa.
Melna needs to be stopped, the supplies need to be intercepted and the incoming army needs to be destroyed. I can’t be in three places at once! How can I stop this from happening?

Just before midmorning, Trae returned to their room and Dune was seated at a small table that was covered with jewelry and other random objects. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“We’re going to need these,” Dune replied.

“We’re going to need a spoon?” Trae asked with a quizzical look on his face.