The Blackguard (Book 2) (23 page)

“Keelee, may I present Flame. He begged me for an introduction, and since he’s been kind since I arrived, I thought I’d humor him. That and, well, to be honest, I don’t think he would have left me alone if I didn’t introduce you.”

Keelee’s eyes moved to Flame, who bowed low. “It is a pleasure to lay eyes on such a jewel of Silverport. The setting you’re in hardly fits the beauty it graces.”

Keelee blushed a bit. “Thank you, sir.” She looked worriedly at Alador. “Are you gifting me?” she whispered to Alador, her eyes and tone panicked.

“No, Keelee, I will never gift you. As I’ve told others, your body is yours and you will decide who you choose to share it with, not I,” Alador answered just as softly.

Flame slapped Alador on the back. “I can vouch for that – I heard him tell someone that myself.” Alador winced in pain and groaned. “Gods, sorry man,” Flame apologized immediately.
             

Keelee looked between them in surprise. “Oh,” was the only word she managed.

Alador looked at Keelee and felt a moment of pleasure. He wondered how long it had been since she could choose her own path. “Keelee, I’d like a bath. If you two could direct me to somewhere I can bathe in private, then perhaps you and Flame could speak awhile while I soak these aches. Flame suggested it wouldn’t hurt for you to have more than just me to turn to if there’s a problem that is if you take to one another.”

Flame looked at Alador. “Well, the baths themselves are public – lots of people use them. I know a couple of private pools, but they’ll be cold.”

Alador didn’t mention he could heat them. “I would value privacy over heat right now. I have a lot to think about and could really just use some time alone.” He didn’t want to go into what he needed to think about, and apparently the look on his face was enough to deter questions.

Keelee immediately set to gathering up items. She emptied his pouch of books and put in a towel, soap and a change of clothing. Alador knew he probably reeked of sweat. His headache was still a dull pound – it wasn’t distracting, but he was still aware of it. His eyes on Keelee scurrying about, he asked Flame, “Did your head hurt after spell practice?”

“Yup! I asked about that about my third day into classes. Master Tylorus told me that our magic is like a muscle and our brain is the focus of its use, so it’s a lot like the rest of our body, unused to such exercise. It’ll stop that in a week or two, but if it gets too bad, the healers have a potion you can take to ease it,” Flame answered with unusual seriousness. “I so remember that headache.” He put a hand to his forehead and looked at Alador with real sympathy.

Keelee handed the bag to Alador and Flame, then turned to lead them out. It wasn’t actually that far from his rooms, and the turns were simple. There was a crevice at the back of the hall that didn’t look completely finished.

Flame slipped through it, revealing an actual cave not made by mortal hands. “I found this once just wandering. I come here sometimes when I want to be alone, too.” He offered a hand to help Keelee through.

Keelee looked at the dirt and shook her head. “I will just stay out here. Maybe while Alador bathes we could take a walk in the practice field; I need to go get some fresh air.” She touched the stone at the side of the entry, then rubbed her fingers together.

Flame did not need to be bid a second time. “Enjoy, Alador. I’ll bring her back to your room soon.” He slipped back out the crevice and took Keelee’s arm. “Right this way, milady. I would be proud to offer you a summer stroll under the stars.” Flame gestured dramatically toward the roof of the cavern as if the stars were already overhead.

Alador just rolled his eyes. He had no doubt Keelee would tell him if Flame got out of hand, and he believed Flame would keep his promise. He slipped through the crevice and looked around. The cave was about the height of two men at its tallest point. The pool looked deep, but exactly how deep it was, he couldn’t tell through its glass-like stillness. No running water contributed to it. Alador stared into the pool curiously. On one side, there was a ledge that looked just deep enough to sit on. He stripped down and put a toe in the water – it was cold, but not uncomfortably so. He unwrapped the linen on his leg to find that, while it was bloodied, the wound had already fully closed. What ointment had Jon put on it? Alador
slipped into the water, shuddering at the chill. Though it felt good in more ways than one, he noticed that his headache’s pounding worsened almost immediately.

Alador sighed and concentrated on the pool, only intensifying the headache. He pressed through the pain, his fingers stirring it as he focused on heating the water. He no longer needed to find anger now that he knew what his magic felt like, but it still took some time with as tired as he was and as deep as the pool was. He laid his head back on the dry edge to soak away the day’s hurts and bruises.
 After a time, the headache slowly eased its resounding throb.

It was the first time all day Alador had been able to think. The lessons had excited him. He’d always wanted to learn magic and only the potential loss of Mesiande had stilled that desire. Now that he had come to accept his separation from Mesiande – at least somewhat – his desire to learn all that could be learned had returned. On top of that, Alador was still fairly certain that his geas was to save the dragon fledglings being placed into slavery, and he’d need magic to do that. He wasn’t sure how he would know when he had finished whatever Renamaum forced on him, but he was fairly sure this was it.

The fact that the Trench Lord, Aorun, had sent someone to kill him was puzzling. Alador had no idea what he could have done to the man to earn such hatred. Surely it couldn’t be just because he was half-Daezun. Everyone here was of mixed blood in some capacity. He doubted that was the sole reason he’d been singled out, but it was a puzzle he was too tired to solve, and there were too few facts to help decipher the problem.

Alador finally let his mind go to the one thing he had been determined to not think about all day. Last night, he’d bedded Keelee. Just the thought sent a wrenching
knife through his heart. He knew that if Mesiande had sought another from the circle, he would be devastated.  By the gods, he would be devastated if she were to choose someone other than him even if he were there at the circle. How could he have let Keelee continue? He should have stopped her.

Alador groaned as he realized how much like his father he really was. He had lied and avoided truths. He had used Keelee. The fact that she had offered herself freely didn’t matter. He’d felt nothing for her but the relief of his body’s needs and the common comfort of another caring soul. Is that how Henrick felt for his mother?
 Was she just an outlet for his needs and a tender hand?

Alador ducked under the water in confusion. He knew he could not cast Keelee out, not after she’d shared her fear of the trenches. Maybe she would take a liking to Flame or someone else here and would be willing to let Alador gift her to him. He wouldn’t do so against her will, otherwise. He also knew that she was skilled and, in moments of weakness, having a beautiful woman in your bed with such skills was like putting chocolate before a small one and telling them not to eat it.

Alador reached over the side and grabbed the soap and towel, looking at the pouch she had prepared. He could not deny that there were benefits to having a body servant. Having someone to lay out your things, seeing to your every need was something a man could get used to. Keelee was just doing the work she was paid to do. Yes, that was it. Alador could look at it that way. She was not his love. She was not his desire. She was his servant and has such, his to command.

Having resolved this in his mind and numbed his heart to its consequence, Alador finished bathing with a
slightly lighter spirit. He kept the water warm and comfortable and laid back to soak away the day’s bruises. Deep down, he knew what he was thinking wasn’t right, but it was a compromise he was willing to make. It was just comfort, nothing more. Besides, he was protecting her from both the Trench Lord and his uncle.

In another realm, Dethera, Goddess of the Night, smiled in cold satisfaction.

Chapter Seventeen

Aorun strode through the door pulling off his cloak and snapping it once to break loose the inevitable dust from the mines before hanging it on its peg. The new shaft he’d had to inspect hadn’t produced more than a small vein of medure. The white stone used to make buildings in Silverport and other cities continued to be cut and removed in transportable sizes; a stone mage would easily be able to shape the pieces into proper form to work with. Of all the mages, stone mages had some of the most profitable skills
. Aorun had a couple of third tier stone mages on his payroll. But he hadn’t been looking for the stone that was Silverport’s namesake, he had hoped that his men would unearth something more valuable in the new shaft.

The poor showing of medure had only caused Aorun’s mood to slip further, and he’d already been on edge ever since the dinner at the High Minister’s palace. On top of that, the numbers had been off when he’d gone over his reports with Sordith earlier: the shipments were down, and they’d lost one ship in a storm. Aorun was not looking forward to delivering that report to the High Minister. It seemed like nothing was going right that damned day.

Aorun sank behind his desk and thought back to the words that had passed between him and Sordith earlier. Sordith had pointed out that Aorun was losing focus. It was true: he wanted that woman, and he wanted that half-breed dead, but he didn’t think it was impacting his decisions or his strength of command. The trenches still leapt to his will; its inhabitants still paid their fees as was required. The connection between Aorun’s loss of slips and his loss of focus was nothing more than just a coincidence. The audacity of Sordith’s accusation was clear. Aorun laid his head in his hands, trying to sort his thoughts. Perhaps he’d had a little too much to drink today.

There was a sharp rap at the door, bringing Aorun’s head up. “Enter.”

The half-breed, Maxis, came in through the door and strode before Aorun’s desk, saluting smartly before the Trench Lord. “I have come to make my report on the man, Alador.”

“He’s dead already?” Aorun looked surprised. He’d thought the man weak, but not that weak.

“I made an attempt, but a complication arose and I wished to make my report before proceeding.” Maxis lip curled with a bit of contempt.

“It has been three days. How can you already have a complication in three blasted days?” Aorun stood and strode around his desk, leaning back against it and crossing his arms. Maxis looked almost entirely Daezun. Aorun couldn’t stand him, of course, but the man had some skill with magic and was a prime candidate for the Blackguard. He liked his women, ale, and slips – it made the man easy to control and quick to do Aorun’s bidding.

“I attempted to remove him as directed; I had him cornered like a proper cowed whelp when a black mage rose to his defense.” Maxis would have said more, but the Trench Lord had put up his hand.

The Trench Lord hollered loudly, “Sordith! Owen! Get your carcasses in here.” As usual, Sordith quietly emerged from apparently nowhere, his soft footfalls completely silent as he stepped through the doorway. Owen was not nearly as quiet, his weapons rattling as he
sauntered through the door. He had a leg of fowl in his hand and was gnawing at it as he entered the room.

Aorun turned his attention back to the young man before him, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration and closing his eyes. “Let me get this straight. You took this Alador on face-to-face. You failed to kill him and exposed your place as one of my men?” He dropped his hand back to his side and looked past Maxis.

Maxis frowned. “I hardly announced who I was working for, m’lord.” He didn’t seem to see Aorun make eye contact with Sordith or hear the man slide up behind him. “I thought to remove him swiftly. I assure you that it was a prime opportunity to remove him.”

“What exactly was the command relayed to you?” Aorun asked with a deadly tone.

“To see that he had an accident or mishap. Accidents in practice happen all the time.” Maxis looked up at the Trench Lord, his tone a bit arrogant.

“How often is a first week trainee matched with one about to be assigned?” Aorun was fairly sure they didn’t set new members into a ring with a honed blade.

Maxis’ face lost its proud grin as the tone of Aorun’s question sank in. “Uhh, well, I didn’t exactly plan to announce I was on the other end of the blade.” Maxis’ expression made it clear that he hadn’t considered that far.

“Do you think me stupid?” Aorun asked softly. He’d had a horrible day and before him was the epitome of all the day’s wrongs. His eyes traveled over the guardsman with an assessment of his stance.

              “No m’lord. I think you have to be quite intelligent to have risen as Trench Lord,” Maxis stammered.                     “Let me tell you what I think happened. I think that you didn’t want to bother with something a bit more intelligent and conniving. I think you wanted the credit for the swift kill to earn favor with me, but you miscalculated on either his strength of charm or his strength of arms.” Aorun had not moved from his position against the red, gleaming desk. “Am I right Maxis?”

“It wasn’t quite like that. I mean, I just found him there all alone.” Maxis voice now held an edge of panic.

“But he wasn’t alone. This...death mage was with him. How do you miss a death mage, Maxis?” Aorun asked with a deadly tone. “You got arrogant and complacent. You exposed yourself for who you are to my enemy and a death mage. What should I do with you?”

“Let me kill him. I will kill him for you before the day is out,” Maxis promised urgently.

Aorun gave a small nod to Sordith who nodded back. “See, there is a slight problem with that. If he is killed now, then whispers of my involvement will develop, and I can’t have the High Minster casting a suspicious gaze in my direction.” Aorun stroked his chin and then gave a small, malicious smile. “No, there is only one thing to do.”

“Anything, m’lord. Speak it and I will see it done,” Maxis swore, dropping to one knee.

“Ohhh, I know you will.” Aorun smiled down at the guardsman as Sordith brought the sap down hard from behind him. Aorun hadn’t had any fun for some time and was looking forward to this. “Take him below and string him up. I don’t have a lot of time before dinner, so just the upper half today.”

Sordith grabbed one upper arm, waiting for Owen, who’d finished his leg of fowl and went to toss the bone aside before realizing where he was. Looking around, he
finally shoved it into his belt and grabbed Maxis’ other arm, and the two men pulled him from the room.

Aorun moved around his desk and pulled open the drawer. He withdrew his bottle and took a deep pull before hiding it in the depths of the desk again. He enjoyed killing men, and he especially enjoyed doing it slowly. There was something about their screams that brought a rush of excitement. Aorun usually took himself off to Aueris’ place after he was done; there were a couple women there that had tough constitutions and could handle his aggressions. Maybe today would end on a slightly better note.

By the time he’d wandered down into the cellars below, Sordith and Owen were already in the process of stringing the man up. Aorun was careful to ensure that those with magic skills were gagged and hung with special metal gloves. Binding them so carefully seemed to minimize the number and type of spells they could cast – Aorun had only seen a few fourth and fifth tier mages have any proficiency without focal movements and words. He helped them by anchoring the man’s feet to the floor, and the three of them stretched Maxis up so that his hands pulled him taut. “Leave us.”

Owen nodded with disappointment and lumbered out the door; he didn’t need to be told twice since the incident with the rain water. Sordith, however, paused at the door. “You sure about this? He is well-placed.” Sordith eyed Aorun with concern.

“You heard him; he was seen. Either he has earned the ire of a death mage or will soon be brought before his command. I cannot have my connections to this matter confirmed. If he was so bold, I could only guess that he has not hidden who pays him extra slips.” Aorun eyed the hanging man with clear distaste.

“I just need to hear you say that it’s his failure and not his…Race that brings him to this end.” Sordith sighed softly, his copper eyes fixing on the Trench Lord.

Aorun did not look to Sordith. “Let us just say that his failure makes this pleasure all the sweeter. I wish it were Alador that hung here. To hear his sweet screams would be such wondrous music to my ears. To watch the High Minister’s bastard nephew dance before my blades.” He strolled casually around the mage, eying his body as if deciding where to start.

“Your preoccupation with that man’s death is going to be your undoing,” Sordith warned softly.

“Fret not, Sordith. As long as my feet are planted on this isle, my death is not going to occur anytime soon, so quit hoping.” Aorun finally looked at Sordith and winked. “I know how I die and it won’t be by some half breed’s hand.

Sordith just shook his head and slipped from the room. Aorun watched him go. Few men had the assurances that he did of how they would die. As long as he avoided setting up the situation in the first place, he did not fear death.
 He got one of the buckets of seawater that were kept here and threw it into Maxis’ face, watching with satisfaction as the man sputtered awake.

“As you can see, you will be doing what needs to be done today. You will writhe here, a victim of your own arrogance.” Aorun went to the table where his tools were kept and picked up a nine-tailed whip. He snapped it a couple times. “I really do not tolerate failure well.” His cold snarl was as cutting as the knife he often wielded. Aorun moved around to the mage’s back. “Let us count out your failures, shall we?”

He snapped the whip, watching as the nine lines of crystal-imbedded leather tore into the man’s back. “One, you disobeyed my orders.” Aorun twisted the grip as he jerked it back, letting the crystals dig in and tear skin, taking delight in the man’s muffled scream of pain. He did not immediately lash again; he’d learned that if the blows came too fast, a man could quickly numb his mind to the pain. So Aorun waited for that gasp of breath that came with the body’s acceptance of the first level of pain, then snapped the whip out again.

“Two, having chosen to disobey my orders, you failed to kill him.” Aorun smiled as Maxis tried to move. He was bound too securely, helpless for Aorun’s pleasure. The Trench Lord walked away, coiling the whip, to where he had a mug and bottle stashed. He poured himself a splash of smalgut and downed it before walking back, stopping to look Maxis in the eyes.

“It is a pity that I can’t let others watch, but I can’t have the entire Blackguard down on me wanting to avenge one of their own.” Aorun reached up and gently wiped a tear from below Maxis’ eyes. “Now, now. No tears. You earned this.” Aorun’s tone was sickly sweet. “We were counting the reasons why, remember?” He snapped the whip a few times as he walked around to the man’s back again. Maxis’ body braced at each snap, and then shuddered when there was no pain to accompany the snap, bringing a smile of perverse pleasure to Aorun’s face.

“Let’s see…where was I? Ah yes.” He snapped the lash out again; this time the angle crossed the other lines, leaving a trail of bleeding, crossed marks. “Three, you let a black mage know, or confirmed for him, who you work for. This will have alerted my young foe to my plans.”
 The thought made Aorun angry and he struck the man again. Not finding release from his fury, he brought that whip down six more times, watching in pleasure as the man writhed before him.  Blood pooled around Maxis’ feet. The only reason Aorun stopped at six was in the last blow, the mage had passed out and sagged forward.

Aorun tossed the bloodied whip aside and got another bucket of seawater, soaking the man again. Even as Maxis blinked in confusion, his eyes stinging from salt water he could not wipe from his sodden hair, Aorun tossed the rest of the bucket onto the man’s back to assess his handy work. The salt-filled water washed across the open marks, drawing another scream of agony from Maxis
’ gagged mouth. Aorun walked around to face him. “As you can see, failure to serve the Trench Lord is not taken lightly, my dear Maxis.” Aorun’s tone was one of a disappointed father, entirely inappropriate for what he was doing to the man before him.

Maxis was sobbing now; words begging for mercy could be made out even through the gag. Aorun went for another shot of liquor. This wasn’t assuaging that black need within him.
 He knew deep down that the only thing that would bring him the release he needed was to have Alador, and now he would have to wait. He would have to bide his time and wait because of this fool. Aorun wanted Maxis to die in as much pain as he could muster. He did not want him unconscious. He considered a moment, tapping the glass against his lips.

Aorun put the glass down. He went to the table and carefully chose a blade – a knife with a deadly point and a convex blade. He touched the tip and smiled as a small bead of blood formed on his finger. Yes, this would do nicely for what he had in mind. He moved once again behind the whimpering man. "I would tell you this is not going to hurt, but alas, I would be lying,” he said, his soft
voice just below Maxis’ ear. A moment later, he smelled the sharp stench of urine.

Aorun plunged the blade into Maxis, just above the pelvis and next to his spine. The damage to the nerves quickly paralyzed Maxis’ left leg. Aorun waited for the man to quit screaming before he spoke. “Feel that? If I were to stop here, you would be paralyzed for life in that leg. While you can feel where my blade is…” Aorun took a dagger from his belt and plunged into the man’s left leg, “…you can’t feel anything below it.” He peered around and looked up at horrified expression on Maxis’ face as he stared down at the dagger in his leg, pleased to see the pain and terror in the man’s eyes.