The Essence Gate War: Book 01 - Adept (55 page)

“Well?” Morland demanded. “Tell me what you see, farseer.”

“A moment
more, my lord,” Lorenth murmured. He was a young man with a thin brown beard that matched the hue of his unassuming robes. He peered out the tower window into the night with unfocused eyes. “It is dark outside and the grounds of your estate are quite extensive. I am still finding my range.”

“Be quick about it then,” Morland snapped
. “It is imperative that I know what transpires in the city tonight, and I am not a patient man.”

“Yes, my lord,” said Lorenth
. “You have made your point.”

“Have I
? I wonder. I can usually tell when I have succeeded in making my point, as I either achieve the results I desire, or the person who has failed me provides a highly motivating example for others. Which will be the case with you, farseer?”

The young man shivered
without blinking. Even without the merchant’s ruthless reputation, there was the ice in his tone and the ominous leather creak and metal rasp of his guards to lend credence to his words. Lorenth kept his breathing even and clung to his focus with an effort. Whatever else might be said of the man, he paid well for results, and Lorenth desperately needed the coin.

“I will not fail you, my lord.”

“See that you do not, farseer.”

“I must remind my lord that
my farsight cannot penetrate solid barriers––” Lorenth began.

“I am well aware of your limitations, farseer,” Morland interrupted
. “And I would not have hired you if they would be an issue for this task. Now, we are in the tallest tower of my mansion to provide you the least obstructed view over the bluff’s edge and into the heart of the city. I suggest you make use of it, before my patience wears any thinner.”

Lorenth bit back his frustration, all too aware that ill-chosen words with this man could prove fatal
. A severed hand collected no coins, after all. “Perhaps if my lord would indicate what he seeks to find––”

“And have you
merely echo whatever I wish to hear?” Morland snorted. “I think not. I am paying a sum greater than you would see in half a year or more, and I am paying it for the talents of a
true
farseer, not some charlatan fortune teller who would twist the gleanings from my own words into false pearls of wisdom. I would be most disappointed to find that you had misrepresented your skills.”

Lorenth’s mouth went dry
. The room had gone a deadly kind of quiet, but he resisted the urge to retract his sight from the far-flung darkness in order to glance about him. It was a nervous reflex, difficult to suppress under the circumstances, but he steeled himself with the knowledge that it would not help him anyway. He was no warrior; he could not evade the blades of the scowling guards and win his way to freedom even if he could see his immediate surroundings. Also, the additional delay might in fact prove his undoing. No, his welfare depended solely upon his abilities now, and he had best start providing results.

Perhaps if he provided a few meaningful details, Morland would trust him enough to reveal the true requirements for Lorenth’s work this evening.

His eyes focused on a distant point, thousands of yards away. He almost slumped with relief to find the outer wall of Morland’s estate, bathed in amber pools of light cast by wall-set torches. Finally, some light to work with! He focused over the wall and onto the manicured lane beyond, and from there over the bluff’s edge. He could not follow the slope from that point, as the angle from his current vantage point did not allow it. He would be forced to make another leap in focus, but at least this time he had his general bearings.

There was
at least one element of truth to the merchant’s words, Lorenth reflected as he extended his sight again. The man had offered a considerable amount for what seemed a simple enough job, even if the details were lacking in advance. But then, that was not unusual in itself. Lorenth expected that a portion of the fee was to buy his silence afterward about whatever he would see tonight. He was probably meant to confirm a lover’s indiscretions, or perhaps spy on the clandestine dealings of some business competitor. Lorenth sighed to himself. It was usually something terribly tedious like that, some trivial personal or civic matter that was well beneath the scope of his talents, and a far cry from the valorous uses to which he had planned to put them when he first came to Keldrin’s Landing.

The darkened top of a building swam into focus
, interrupting his roaming thoughts. Somewhere in the trade district, it appeared.

“I have reached the
trade district, my lord,” Lorenth said. “Where am I to look?”

“Look to the streets,” Morland replied, eagerness seeping into his tone
. “Anywhere should suffice.”

“Certainly, my lord, but
if I know not where to look or what to––”

“Just look, you
fool!”

Anywhere
? It made no sense. Was the merchant not looking for something specific after all? Perhaps this was an extended interview of sorts, to verify his abilities in advance of a more important job that would come later. Lorenth felt a chill. How would he prove the veracity of what he saw if Morland was looking for nothing in particular? He had to find some convincing detail, something that would allay the suspicions of a powerful and vengeful man.

He shifted his gaze ever so slightly
. This required a finer degree of control than most people realized, to move his sight only a few feet over such a distance. It was all too easy to jump wildly around and be forced to reestablish his frame of reference entirely. He had managed it over much greater lengths before, however, and the merchant did not seem the type to be impressed with the control Lorenth had practiced so hard to earn, so he swallowed the boastful words he was tempted to utter and resumed his efforts.

A street scene materialized before him
. Dark, deserted. Lorenth bit his lip.

“What is it
? What do you see?” the merchant’s tone was oddly neutral for all its urgency.

“Nothing yet, my lord,” the young man responded
. “The streets nearby are empty.”

“Empty?” Morland exclaimed
. He sounded disappointed, disbelieving. “Keep searching.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The scene was just fading out of focus as Lorenth began to move his farsight again, when a flicker of movement in the distance caught his attention.

“One moment, lord,” Lorenth said
. “I may have something for you after all. There is something moving further up the lane.”

“Tell me.”

The young farseer pushed his sight up the cobbled street. A large group of shadowy figures sharpened into detail, running with long, bounding strides. Something about the way they moved struck him as wrong, unnatural, as if they were somehow lighter upon the earth than the size of their forms suggested. The foremost among them leapt high and hurled themselves upon another group, this one of wide-eyed men––soldiers, by the look of them––brandishing swords and spears. Even with the glow of rocking firelamps held high in the clenched fists of the men, the dark attackers were barely visible against the night. The feeble light cast by the lamps formed a faint golden frost upon the creatures, as if their black flesh greedily drank in all illumination.

Steel flashed
and bodies collided, and Lorenth gasped at the ferocity of the clash. Then the breath caught in his throat with a dry rattle. He saw a spear ram through the abdomen of one of the black figures, but the creature did not falter; instead it grabbed the haft with both hands and wrenched it from the grasp of its shocked owner. The transfixed creature then hurled itself upon the man and bore him to the ground. Another man stepped toward his fallen comrade with sword upraised, but naked black hands wrapped around the blade, heedless of its cutting edge, holding it fast. Two more attackers leapt at the hapless fellow, binding his limbs. It was the same elsewhere, and the battle, if it could even be called such, was over in seconds. Every one of the men was down, and their unflinching foes bent over them with sinister intent.

Lorenth shifted his farsight in a panic,
flinching away from whatever grisly end was to come. Another scene swam into focus, and the young man watched in horror as a different horde of the black creatures smashed in a shop door and poured into the building. The light pressing against the windows from the inside guttered, masked by twisting shadows within for a moment, and then went dark.

The farseer
flinched, casting his sight elsewhere in the city, and found a large, embattled knot of the city guard. They were fighting in a protective ring around several huddled families while the black creatures came at them from all sides, constricting around the ring of soldiers in dark waves. With the startling clarity of his magical vision, Lorenth took in the drawn but resolute faces of the guards as they fought, the tear-streaked faces of the children clinging to their parents, and the depthless eyes and gaping maws of the attackers. There was no sound, of course, but all the mouths stretched taut in silent screams was almost worse, somehow; the unheard screams seemed to batter impossibly at his senses, clawing at him for supplication.

Lorenth convulsed, jerking his sight away again and again, only to land on scenes of similar mayhem all over the city
. At last he dropped his farsight and fell back with a moaning cry, staggering for a moment as he returned to himself. The lavish interior of the chamber at Morland’s estate drew in close about him, cradling him with its warmth. He felt a rush of relief mingled with guilt that he was here in the tower and not down below in the city streets. He sucked in a shuddering breath.

“
M-My lord!” he gasped. “The city is besieged, overrun by some strange force!”

Morland stood a short distance away, regarding him with
a hooded gaze. The man made no immediate reply, but instead turned away from the farseer and strode to a tall chair, where he sank into its red velvet cushions. Morland placed his hands in his lap and laced his fingers loosely together. “Go on,” he said.

“There are thousands upon thousands of these strange creatures within the city walls, like black statues
of twisted men come to life!” The young man gesticulated wildly at the tower window, as if the others could somehow bear witness to the same things that his farsight had allowed him to see.

Morland studied him with
dark, deep-set eyes. “And how fare the city’s defenders against these invaders?” he asked quietly.

“The creatures
show no pain and shrug off what should be mortal blows,” Lorenth said. “They are overwhelming soldier and citizen alike!”

The merchant nodded,
pursing his lips. “The outcome is decided, then?”

Lorenth blinked, darting a glance to the tower window and then back again
. Did the man not hear what he was saying? Did he not comprehend the danger that faced them all? “I-I do not know, my lord,” he said. “The battle rages on, and though I am no military expert, I do not see how the defenders can––”

The words froze on his tongue as he watched a cruel smile spread across
the hard, aquiline planes of Morland’s face. Lorenth’s eyes widened. The man
knew!
He had somehow anticipated this evening’s events, and had brought the farseer here tonight to confirm them from the remote safety of his estate. He stared at the merchant in shock. Morland, for his part, simply watched the young man for a long moment as he sifted through the implications that came with the awareness.

“
Do we continue to have an understanding, farseer?” the merchant asked with the cold smile still twisting at his lips. “I would hate to think that you had reached the end of your value to me.”

Lorenth opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out
. His eyes flicked to the powerfully built guards standing in the shadows on either side of the chamber’s only door. Their hands did not stray near the sword hilts at their hips, but they regarded him with pitiless, clinical stares. Lorenth snapped his mouth shut and looked back to the merchant. At last, he gave a tight nod.

“Excellent,” Morland said
. “You will monitor the events in the city tonight, and you will inform me immediately of any occurrences that might change the outcome.”

With that, the man laid his head back on the high-backed, blood-red velvet chair and closed his eyes
. His slender hands remained clasped comfortably before him in his lap. Lorenth swallowed a lump in his throat. Numb inside, he turned back to the tower window and stared out into the night, his eyes going unfocused.

Captain Borric shook his head to clear the sweat from his eyes. His vision remained blurry, however; a glancing blow from an ebon fist had left his head ringing and his left eye nearly swollen shut. How long ago had that been? It seemed like hours, but he knew how the chaos of battle could wreak havoc on a man’s sense of time; it had probably been only minutes.

He looked around at his remaining men
. Brave men all, they fought like tigers against their implacable foe, but one by one they were disappearing. Even as he watched, one stout soldier raised his shield against a rain of blows and clove the skull of an attacker. A score of strong black fingers snaked around the edge of his shield, however, ripping it away and staggering him off balance. In the blink of an eye, the man was pulled from his feet and dragged on his back across the cobblestones and into the dark wave of creatures. The man to his left, exposed by his comrade’s sudden absence, gave a muffled cry as dark limbs wrapped about his head and shoulders. His neck broke with a sharp crack as he was jerked from his feet, and his struggling form sagged in their grasp. A pair of creatures pulled him several more feet before slowing, evidently noticing his condition. They released their hold, and he slid to the ground in a limp pile. They stepped upon him as they returned to the fray, taking no more notice of his discarded corpse than they would a loose stone in the roadway.