Secrets at the Keep (Kingdom of Denall Book 2) (26 page)

While he sat, he wondered about the strange girl who had led the seekers away from him. No matter how much he thought about their encounter, it always left him with more questions than answers. He sometimes wished for Kire’s ability to take even the smallest piece of information and come up with surprisingly accurate conclusions, but he certainly wouldn’t give up his magic for any amount of knowledge.

As he continued to ponder the questions that seemed to have no answers, he felt a pulse of magic that made him focus. His detection spell warned him that a magician was near. Dune gripped his staff in his hand and hid behind a thick bush as the magician approached.

Dune could easily make out the features of the magician as the man approached on a tall, black horse. Like most from the southern desert, he had long, dark hair and an olive complexion, but he was dressed in common clothing, as if he were trying to travel unnoticed.

Dune knew that even a low level magician could be dangerous, so he planned to make this surprise attack fast and deadly. When he came in range, Dune stepped out from behind the bush and threw four simultaneous attacks at the man.

The earth erupted underneath his horse, throwing the animal into a panic while a ball of fire scorched the ground and another cut through air as it rocketed at the man. While those attacks had him distracted, the third attack of hardened air dropped down on top of him to form a solid trap.

The man on the horse threw up his hands quickly to defend the assault and was thrown to the ground, landing on his back inside a small, protective bubble that made the fire pass over him.

Dune stepped out on the road and reached out with magic. The earth had settled, leaving the carcass of the fire-scorched horse lying next to the magical bubble where the magician lay unharmed. Dune’s hardened air trap was securely in place, so although the man was untouchable in his protective shell, he was trapped.

Dune approached holding his staff ready. “Hello,” he greeted as he came close.

The magician smiled at Dune, knowing that he was, for the moment, safe. “Dune? Is that really you?”

Dune searched his memories for the magician who crouched before him. He was not immediately familiar, so he probably came from one of the northern tribes in the Coffal Desert, the tribes who traded and travelled more among the Denallians.

“What is your name and tribe?” Dune asked in a flat tone. “So I can deliver the news of your traitorous ways, your capture and death.”

The magician looked up smugly. “Is that how you greet all us lesser magicians?”

Dune shook his head and began to shrink the invisible cage around the magician, although both men were motionless, Dune’s magic pressed in, threatening to crush the defense the other man had thrown up. “As a magician of Coffal you have a sworn duty to protect the Stones of Power. Yet you are here on Mordyar’s errand, working for the very man we need to defeat. You have broken your most sacred oaths. You are a weak magician, a bully, and a coward.”

“Guilty,” he admitted. “Unfortunately for you, being a bully and coward are not any cause for you to put me to death, and the oaths you talk about are oaths of Coffal,” he spat, “and I do not claim that wretched land anymore.” He tried to look calm, but a bead of sweat was forming on his head from the effort of holding back Dune’s hardened air from crushing him. “You have no authority here outside of the desert. If you kill me it will be murder.”

“How about the laws of Denall?” Dune said as he stepped forward next to the shrinking dome. “You are here to take a group of slaves for experimentation on transferring their gifts. You were going to take Genea’s magic gift. I have enough proof according to the laws of Denall, and as a general in the King’s Guard, on special assignment to track down and stop those who fight against our country, you are pronounced guilty of treason.” Dune raised his hands above his head and began pressing them together. As he pushed inward, the solid air prison condensed.

He felt some resistance as he met up with the man’s protective cocoon, but not much. Dune continued to squeeze his hands together and the man’s shield began to crush in on him, trapping him in place. The imprisoned magician reached down to the ground and grabbed a short staff, then vanished, appearing next to Dune with his staff already in motion.

Although his magic was weak, the magician was fast. Dodging the strikes while countering with his own staff kept Dune on the defensive. He blocked low strikes and high as the man pushed him back to the edge of the road. He struck on the right, then faked a jab, twirled around and swung at Dune’s leg. The attacks were fast, powerful, and never in the same place twice.

Moving quickly in order to keep himself safe from the furious onslaught of his opponent, Dune didn’t have time to prepare a magical attack. He whirled his staff, blocking and countering until the other magician brought his hands together and struck down forcefully. Dune raised his staff in a high block and kicked forward, catching the man in the chest and throwing him to the ground. Before he came into contact with the dirt, Dune lashed out with magic, tearing the staff from his hand and pinning him down with an invisible mass of hardened air.

Dune stepped forward and the man moved his hand slightly, throwing a ball of solid air. Dune deflected the attack and jabbed down at the man with his staff, striking his throat and crushing his windpipe. The traitorous magician sagged lifeless on the ground.

Dune held his hand above the magician’s body and created a fire that consumed him, leaving behind a small patch of scorched earth. He then waved his arm over the battlefield and restored the charred path as best he could before teleporting far out to the east to catch up with Trae and the supply caravan.

*****

Riding on her strong warhorse, Maggie was easily able to keep ahead of the seekers as she led them away from Trae and Dune. In fact, she often needed to slow down to ensure they didn’t fall too far behind as they traveled. She made sure to lead Gapol through soft mud to leave clear tracks, just to be certain she didn’t lose them as they wound their way through Hillside, southwest through a small village of Dungan, and on into the Woller Plains toward Pike Point.

On the fifth day, Maggie was happy when she felt she had a sufficient lead for the day to stop and set up camp. She quickly set up a place to sleep, ate by a small cook fire and got ready for some rest. Most times she felt directed to action it was small things, like helping someone on the road, or knowing when to release her bowstring for an archery tournament, but lately there were more moments of direction, and the tasks were often longer, like this week-long horse chase. But she was happy that it was coming to an end.

Some hours after night had set in and the bright moon was risen high in the sky, Maggie heard a rustle in the woods. The seekers had finally caught up to her and they were cautiously tightening the circle they had made, surrounding her campsite.
They’re really not very good at quietly stalking
, she thought to herself as she silently scaled a nearby tree and prepared her bow while she waited. While it was sometimes a bit of a curse to have inklings of what was going to happen in the future drive her to action, at times like this she was genuinely excited. It was time for her to face off with the seekers—it was time to do some real good.

At once, the five seekers burst into the small clearing, wielding weapons. A young couple each loosed an arrow into the pile of grass Maggie had covered with a blanket near the fire, and the other seekers stood by with their weapons raised in the air. She could tell that each of them was wearing jewelry that gave different kinds of magic protection, and their weapons were enchanted. Maggie needed to move with precision or she would not be able to overcome their charms.

The young female seeker moved forward first with her bow strung, ready to release another arrow. Maggie drew her bow and released an arrow just as the seeker leaned over to check on the decoy under the blanket. In this bent over position, her enchanted necklace was hanging away from her body, not making contact with her skin, and the arrow pierced her heart, dropping her to the ground.

Her husband fell down at her side, dropping his bow, and Maggie jumped down to the ground, landing between the two men on the far side of the camp. She swung her bow over her head, slicing the older man’s cheek open with the tip while she ducked under another attack from behind. She grabbed an arrow from her quiver and threw it end over end in an arch over her shoulder at the attacking seeker behind her, then stepped forward to drive her elbow up hard into the old man’s throat while he still clutched his cheek.

Behind her, the seeker’s magically enchanted sword lashed out of its own accord, trying to defend him from the spinning arrow. Though the weapon managed to successfully block the arrow from hitting him, its erratic motion made the seeker punch himself in the shoulder, causing him to drop it to the ground. Maggie drove a back kick into his gut, then snapped her foot back, spinning herself around to round house kick him in the face. His eyes rolled back in his head and he fell to the ground.

Maggie dropped her bow and ran past the fallen seeker, reaching down to grab his sword from the ground while scooping up a handful of dry dirt in her other hand. When she came up with the sword in hand, her eyes met Melna’s across the fire from her. She began walking straight for her, pausing briefly to kick the husband seeker in the face as she passed, knocking the grief-stricken seeker unconscious onto his back.

“Who are you?” Melna demanded.

Ignoring her question, Maggie kept walking forward. “Fortunately for you, I don’t feel like I should kill you. But you will have an important choice to make shortly.”

Melna held her dagger up in front of herself and took some cautious steps, advancing on Maggie. “What are you talking about?”

“Pike Point or Omer’s Keep.” Maggie answered. “With no Han’Or and the infection that will be spreading in your arm, I recommend Pike Point. But honestly, it doesn’t really matter. Either way you’ll meet your fate in one of those two places. But for now you need to be alive.” Maggie raised her hand to her shoulder level, holding her arm straight in front of her, then she opened her hand, showing the small pile of dirt.

Melna sneered, a look of hatred and confusion flashing across her face. She lunged forward just as a gust of wind blew from behind Maggie toward her. The wind picked up the grains of dry dirt from Maggie’s hand and blew them into Melna’s eyes. The older seeker instinctively dropped the dagger as she wiped at her eyes, trying to blink away the burning. With the knife dropped to the ground, Maggie stepped forward and sliced with her stolen sword, cleanly cutting off Melna’s right hand. Melna screamed out in agony and dropped to the ground, holding the bloody end of her arm with her remaining hand.

Maggie calmly pulled a sack from her belt and scooped up Melna’s hand. She then walked around the campfire, swinging her sword at each seeker’s bottle of Han’Or, spilling the liquid to the ground. When she was done, she threw the weapon to the ground and picked up her bow, then moved to stand in front of Melna. “What are you going to do now?” Melna demanded defiantly, glaring at the younger woman.

Maggie pulled an arrow from her quiver and nocked it. Melna remained kneeling on the ground, confidently maintaining eye contact, but she was not the target. Maggie waited a brief moment, then she drew back on her bowstring and shot an arrow up into the night sky. Distantly there was a small thudding sound and the pained screech of a dying bird. Maggie reached her hand out palm up and turned to look at Melna just as a perfectly polished sphere landed in her open hand. Maggie looked at her hand, then back to Melna. She didn’t know what the sphere was, she just knew she was meant to intercept it from getting to the head of the seekers. However, she was starting to get an inkling of where her next prompting would send her.

“How did you do that?” Melna demanded. “That is a message for me! I’m the only one who can…” Melna stopped speaking and looked down at the place where her hand had been severed as understanding dawned. “You needed my hand.”

Maggie tilted her head to the side as she started to piece together what was happening. The magical orb was some kind of message that needed to be activated by touching Melna’s hand, and Melna probably needed to be alive for it to work. She whistled and Gapol trotted into the clearing. She placed the ball in her pocket and tied the sack with Melna’s hand on the side of her saddle, then she jumped up into the saddle.

“I recommend Pike Point,” Maggie repeated, then she tugged on the reins and kicked her horse into a gallop. She had a rather disgusting package to deliver.

Trae rode confidently on his large, black horse as the supply train made its way east through Omer’s realm. Having a small contingent of soldiers to protect shipments was a common practice among barons, and although this group was larger than most, they were able to avoid attracting much attention as they moved. Within a few days they would be moving out of Omer’s realm and into the less-populated areas that had few or no patrols. Trae was less interested in their mapped out journey than he was in the absence of his friend. Dune had not yet joined them, and he was getting worried that he would not be able to keep people thinking he was a magician for much longer.

Trae looked back over his shoulder at the army following behind him. He had met with most of them and knew that they were generally all good men. Scar and the commanders knew of Omer’s real plans, but the majority of the soldiers had no idea what they were getting themselves in for.

“Master Magician,” Scar called out as he approached Trae. “We will be stopping for the night here in this valley. The men will begin setting up your tent shortly.” Trae nodded slightly and turned his horse around to walk back through the group of men who were pulling out tents and supplies. “You don’t need to do that,” Scar said to Trae’s back, but he ignored him. The soldiers followed Scar out of fear, or duty, but Trae needed to gain their loyalty and trust if he was going to ask them to follow him.

He wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to do, but eventually they would need to capture those who were loyal to Omer and convince the rest to abandon their mission. He hoped the loss of supplies and support would severely cripple Mordyar’s force, but the more he considered the possibilities, the more he feared the destruction that an invading army could bring down on the lightly fortified section of Denall to which Scar was leading this supply caravan. When the time came, he wondered whether he might be able to persuade the men to take up the mission they thought they had been recruited for – the defense of Denall. His nightly interviews led him to believe that these men would do whatever was needed to defend their country, as long as he could convince them of Omer’s treachery and earn their loyalty.

As he walked among them, they no longer cowered at his passing, but many looked up and smiled warmly as they set up their tents. He even went among the slaves. These men did not meet his gaze with warmth, but some did nod their heads or acknowledge him as he passed. Word was spreading that he prohibited any beatings, and they seemed to recognize that he wasn't like the other leaders they had served under before.

“Master Magician,” one soldier said as he passed. Trae looked down at the fellow and thought for a moment before recalling his name.

“Yes, Jurden?” Trae asked as pulled his horse to a stop.

“The men are done setting up your tent,” he said, pointing to the center of the camp.

Trae led the way and Jurden followed confidently. He was a nice young man with an exceptional desire to be helpful. He was the next person Trae was going to meet with, but he already felt certain he would find this man loyal to Denall.

After meeting with most of the young men in the camp, Trae had changed from being a mysterious master magician, to being more of a powerful friend. They all gave him space, and respected his leadership, but they no longer seemed to fear him as they had at first.

In the command tent, Trae sat in a folding wooden chair across from Jurden. The younger man sat comfortably awaiting his questions.

Trae leaned back in his seat. “How did you get involved with this caravan moving equipment?” he asked, already at ease with the process of interviewing.

“I came here to work with Omer. He needed some help and he pays his soldiers well.” Trae nodded his head at this response.

“Where are we headed and why are we going there?”

There was no hesitation before he responded. “We are marching up the Gulpa River, past Cotham to the east shore. There is a beach with a clear harbor there that is large enough for ships to make their landing, trade goods, and be on their way. We’re going to deliver the supplies to one of Omer’s trading partners.” When he spoke he looked somewhat confused, as if the question had an obvious answer. For Trae it was interesting how the young men in the army knew where they were headed, but their reasons for going there varied greatly. It seemed that Scar and Omer hadn’t told them a reason for the trip, and they were left to fill in that part as best they could.

“Where do your loyalties lie?” Trae asked, wanting to make this meeting short.

Without hesitation, Jurden leaned forward, and with complete sincerity in his eyes he responded, “I am loyal to my country, my countrymen, and my fellow soldiers. I will give every ounce of my blood to help ensure Denall is better because of me.”

Trae smiled and patted Jurden on the shoulder. “That’s what I thought. You can stand up now.” Jurden stood and Trae put a palm sized ring down on the table. It was solid iron and had no special marks.

“What is that?”

Trae picked up the ring. “I’m a beautiful woman,” he said. The ring glowed with a soft, yellow hew. “It detects lies, and in our interview, you were completely truthful.”

Jurden’s eyes opened wide. “Can I try?”

“Sure,” Trae said with a smile.

Jurden spoke without touching the ring. “I have purple hair.” The ring glowed again, then returned to its natural color. “That’s a great tool!”

Trae nodded, “Yes it is. Now, you are not to tell anyone about this ring,” he cautioned, “until after I have met with everyone.” Trae hadn’t shown it to any of the other men after he had interviewed them, but he thought Jurden would appreciate it, and he had already tested his loyalty with the questions. Although the ring did have some limitations, it was one of the more helpful tools Dune had left with him before vanishing.

Jurden smiled, “Not a problem.” When the ring remained its natural color, Trae nodded with satisfaction and shook Jurden’s hand. Trae stood up and walked around the small desk and opened the flap of the tent to let Jurden leave. Scar was standing outside.

“Might we have a word with you?” Scar asked.

Trae nodded and stood to the side as Scar and half a dozen of his commanders entered the tent. Although it was a large enough space, it felt crowded with them near the entrance.

“What’s going on?” Trae asked as they continued to filter in.

“We are just here to talk,” Scar said.

On his desk the ring began to glow yellow.

Before he had time to figure out what was really happening, two men grabbed him under the arms and around the neck from behind. Trae channeled his strength through the Strength Stone and pulled free of the men who held him, smashing one with an elbow to the ear. He then punched forward with the same hand, sending the men on either side of him sprawling to the ground. He spun around and defended against a kick while he dropped his shoulder to ram into another soldier, denting his armor and knocking him flat on his back.

“Stop!” Scar shouted.

Trae turned on the man, ready to pounce, but he held Jurden with a knife to his neck. “If you move to attack me, the boy will die.” The ring on the table stayed black.

Trae stood tall and did not advance. “What is this all about?”

Scar pushed back his bandana and revealed three marks across his forehead. “You know I’m not a simpleton,” Scar responded, “and I know you’re no magician. No magician would stand and fight as you just did. You are a strongarm, an exceptionally powerful strongarm, but fortunately that’s exactly what we’re needing,” he added with a cruel smile. “My question for you is, what happened to my magician?”

Trae leaned forward, ready to attack the man, but he pressed his knifepoint into Jurden’s neck. Trae wanted to keep moving, to attack Scar and take out his commanders, but he couldn’t bring himself to sacrifice Jurden. He knew Dune was on his way, and if he held back, perhaps they would underestimate his strength. He stood still as they wrapped him in thick rope and wrapped thick, leather bands around his arms. When Trae was tied up, Scar threw Jurden to the ground and glared at Trae.

“Get a fire going,” he said to one of his commanding officers. “And find me a branding iron. I think it’s time for some answers.”