The Garnet Dagger (17 page)

“Viscount Arlmond of Ermania.” He dipped his head into a bow. “I have heard of your fame and teachings from boyhood.”

“Let me see you face.” His eyes narrowed. “Take down your hood.”

Nivel paused.

Father Morgan leaned forward his hand about to snatch at Nivel’s hood.

The monk stepped forward as though to pounce and save his master.

“Don’t get too close. I have the beginnings of leprosy.” Nivel waved his bandaged fingers in the air.

They had a reason to be anxious. A mere wisp of a girl had almost killed their leader. The corners of my mouth twitched.

Nivel removed his hood, his silver hair concealing his ears. “I must speak to you, privately, of my son’s service to you and the church. All of my possessions are to be sold and the profits sent to your great work.”

Father Morgan waved a hand. With a huff, the monk turned and left us alone. Behind us, the door clicked shut.

“Now, let us discuss our business.” Nivel flipped his hand and a knife appeared.

Morgan’s eyes widened at the blade gleaming in the firelight.

“If you’ve no wish to lose the breathing of your last good lung,” Nivel said, pressing the blade against the priest’s chest, “then tell me where the Warloc lives.”

“I — I know of no Warloc. You speak of riddles and witches. Death meets all those who cross my path.”

“Except a Celeste, who gave you your wound.” I stepped forward and drew satisfaction from Father Morgan’s in drawn breath. “A wound caused from her magic that never heals.”

Father Morgan’s gurgles transformed into coughing as he pushed himself back into the pillows.

“Now, I’ve methods to heal you, if you tell us where we find this Warloc.” Nivel said.

“I do not converse with the devil or his spawn.”

“The Warloc referred to you by name,” I chimed in.

He spat at me, but Nivel twisted the knife. Blood trickled down the linen sheets.

“What can you do that he could not do worse?” Father Morgan asked.

“Don’t you know? He cannot remove the taint of the magic which eats away at your insides.” Nivel smiled. “But I can end your torment and free you of your service to the Warloc.”

Father Morgan’s eyes blinked back tears.

“Just tell us the truth. All will be well concerning you.”

“Damn witch, I should’ve killed her when I found her, despite her young age.”

“Why did you shelter her?” The words tumbled from my mouth. In truth, I wanted to gut him with my sword for his words and what he had done to Celeste. But was I any better?

“He told me,” he said in a wet wheeze, “she must be pure. Not to look upon him until the Beltane when she turned eighteen.” He pressed against the headboard as Nivel leaned in. At both corners of the headboard I noticed cherub heads pointed their gaze down at him. “I swear, he promised to make me priest over the entire world if I served him.”

“Where were you to send the girl for Beltane?”

“Through the mountains in the east. Bramad. He lives at the peak.”

“You have answered truthfully?” Nivel questioned waving the knife before him. “My cure will not work unless you have done so.”

“Aye — Aye.”

“There is nothing else you have not told me?”

His head rustled against a pillow as he shook his denial. Saliva and blood coated his mouth.

“Very well, the cure I offer you is death.” He plunged the knife into Father Morgan’s body.

A groan sounded, then nothing.

“What have you done?” I snatched his sleeve.

The man’s eyes glazed over, staring at one of the cherub faces. I dropped my hand.

“As soon as we left, if not before, he’d tell the Warloc of us.” He wiped the blade on Father Morgan’s sheets, then closed the man’s eyes. Tugged up the covers to hide the blood. “Don’t need things to fall through when we’re so close.”

“What about the others?” I tucked my hair behind one of my ears. “They will know we are not human.”

“None will recognize you, or me. Just keep your hair and head down.” He replaced the blade in his robes. “They will be too concerned with me and our money to pay you much mind.”

His reasoning sent shudders down my spine. And I thought again for the hundredth time there was something different about Nivel than a common elder.

Nivel strolled through the church tower. Even hummed an Elvin tune, for which I glared at him.

Any moment these humans would discover their leader dead and pounce upon us. I’d rather not fight our way out of here.

Dust and dirt caked the stone walls. Voices echoed through the corridors. I followed Nivel as he made a right turn.

We were steps from the door to freedom, when the monk who escorted us blocked our path. “You two weren’t leaving already?”

Surely, he checked on Father Morgan and knew the truth. I moved my hand to my sword.

“Alas, I must set my affairs in order according to Father Morgan’s blessings.” Nivel bowed his head and the monk pushed passed him to the stairs. “And, I’d not bother Father Morgan just yet.”

“Why?” The monk turned at the base of the stairs. His hands gripped his robes like he only waited to hear Nivel before he bolted up to his master.

“He sleeps. Best not to disturb him.”

The man grimaced, but nodded.

“Well, good day.” Nivel swept forward with his hand upon the door.

“Wait,” the monk said and stepped between us, “join us for the noon day meal. Then you may be on your way.”

I was already shaking my head no, but Nivel smiled.

“We’d be delighted.”

• • •

Inside the dining chamber, my stomach simmered, queasy as though I swallowed a mound of spiders.

Before us, steam rolled off the baked bread in waves, stewed lamb with onions and celery lined the table.

Scattered around the table, monks of various ages ate. They watched with curiosity as Nivel gorged upon the meal.

Even if I could eat, the sight of Father Morgan’s dead body would dissolve any appetite I may have had.

“We enjoy visitors,” a young monk across the table said. His voice betraying him that he would soon become a man. “What brings you here?”

But Nivel answered with smile and a mouthful of food.

“Viscount Arlmond of Ermania and his son,” the ruddy monk wiped his sweaty brow and answered for us. “Came to pay tribute to Father Morgan. Viscount suffers from leprosy.”

At this news, the other monks whispered.

I stared at the food on the wooden trencher in front of me. What if they noticed I did not eat?

Out of the corner of my eye, Nivel’s hand snatched the two loaves of bread and placed them in my hands. I glanced at him in question, but he unfurled his robe.

Then he leaned forward as one of the monks spoke of Father Morgan’s vision of a cleansed earth, and Nivel revealed a flattened pouch tied to his belt. Understanding, I stuffed the slices of bread into the empty pouch.

With a sweeping laugh at one of the monk’s jokes, Nivel swiveled his bench and knocked both himself and the bench over.

Monks on either side of us rushed to his aid. “Everything all right?”

“Aye — aye.” Nivel dusted off his robes, his hood still hiding his Elvin ears.

They straightened the bench, and Nivel sat back down. With a wink at me, he glanced down at my trencher, and then sopped up his stew with another piece of bread. Empty. Nivel had switched the trenchers during the distraction.

One of the monks, who had helped Nivel up, returned to his seat. I noticed a coin tied around his neck. Must have slipped from his robes when he leaned down.

The copper blank side kept winking from the candle light at me.

“What an interesting necklace.”

From the corner of my vision, I saw Nivel glare at me.

“May I see it?” I ignored his stare. It looked familiar. But was just an old coin.

The monk slipped the cord past his hook nose and handed it to me.

When I turned the coin over, the image of the woman with a fishtail stared back at me. My hand shook in anger. He had stolen this medallion from the man I sought.

“Such detail. Did you make this?”

“Brother Carry picks up trinkets from our prisoners.”

I handed back the medallion. “And the prisoner?” I pretended to take a sip of the ale.

“A fool.” Brother Carry replaced the necklace, tucking the medallion beneath the collar of his robes. “All but him is dead. They should’ve given up their lies and confessed.”

“Confessed?” Nivel slurped up his stew.

“Aye.” Brother Carry’s eyes narrowed. “Said they were on a quest to find a dragon that nearly wiped out their village.” His laughter brought my rage to a roaring boil. “Everyone knows dragons guard great treasure.” He fingered the medallion through his wool robe. “Probably where they took this. But when our soldiers spotted them, then they left everything behind. Hoping they could bide their time to get back. But all treasure belongs to the service of our Lord.”

After three more bites, Nivel pushed back from the table. “Thank you for the meal. My son and I’ve eaten our fill.”

The monks stood up and each gave a bow.

My legs shook from wanting to fight as I rose and followed behind Nivel. “When may Father Morgan expect word from you?” the ruddy faced monk asked.

“Within a fortnight.” Nivel’s cloak flapped behind him. “We’d like to visit the prisoner. The one with illusions of dragons. I’ve had to deal with enemies in my own land and know ways of extracting secrets.”

“Excellent.” Brother Carry turned back to the dining chamber. “I will escort you.”

The monk swept forward and shuffled down the hall.

As we walked behind him, Nivel frowned at me. “Hope the cost of this isn’t our lives.”

“Don’t worry. Last time I was here, I almost died. Things are going much better than that.”

He gave me a look like I was insane, but I smiled and followed after the monk.

Instead of taking the chambers to the tower, he led us down through a stairwell. An iron ring of keys rattled as he walked. I was glad I did not have to revisit the tower chambers.

Memory of my escape with Celeste from there would haunt me — from the torture devices to the iron chain that had kept her bound.

Inside the dark chamber, Brother Carry’s torch lit the area around us as we approached a door. “Careful, his lies are almost believable.”

“May I see the necklace?” Nivel asked.

His hook nose appeared to elongate with his frown. “I don’t think you would be wise to take this in with him. Had to break his fingers to take it from him.”

Nivel nodded and stepped aside.

The monk slipped one of the iron keys into the lock. With a creak the door opened.

“Is he alone?” I asked.

“Aye. Took the bodies of his friends out when they stank up the place.” He jammed the torch into a holder. “Burned them in a funeral pyre like heathens.”

I grimaced. But perhaps they would have wanted to die in flames as their loved ones had done. Before us, just outside of the reach of the torch, was a man chained to a chair. If not for my elf sight, I’d have thought him part of the wall.

Stones were piled up around him.

“His chains?”

“Foolish if you unchain him.”

“Let me worry about it.” Nivel drew his height up and peered down into the monk’s face. “Do you want your treasure or not?”

“It’s on your heads then.” He unhinged the keys from his rope belt and tossed them to Nivel.

“Forgive me.” Nivel fumbled the keys and they clanked against the stone floor. “I can’t grasp the keys, my leprosy.”

The man in chains groaned. His dark hair hung in tangles around his face. Beard and moustache covered the lower half. So covered in dirt and grime, I could not tell the color of his skin or hair.

“I’ll get them.” Brother Carry leaned over and snatched up the keys.

With a shuffle, he bent to unlock the chains. One of the locks sprung open. The chain rattled against the floor.

The man sprung to life and wrapped the loose chain around the monk’s neck. “Let me go or I’ll kill him.”

Nivel held up his hands as if showing he had no weapons. The chain tightened against Brother Carry’s throat. His face flushed purple.

“Please,” the monk wheezed, “help me.”

“Take one step and he’s dead.” The man towered over the monk.

“Do what you will. We’ll not stop you.” I answered. One less monk to worry about.

Brother Carry’s eyes bulged as the chain squeaked tighter, and then his neck snapped.

His body fell to the floor in a heap.

“Who are you?” His hair matted. He wore no tunic, but grime covered his chest. Trousers were frayed.

“Friends.” I gestured to Brother Carry on the floor. “He has your medallion.”

“I know.” His eyes narrowed. “How do I know to trust you? This isn’t some trick.”

In answer I slid out the coin pouch Nivel gave me from my boot and dug inside for the engraved medallion.

While I searched, the man snatched the necklace from the dead body.

“Your father sent me to deliver a message.” I clasped the medallion identical to his in my fist.

“My father?” Still chained he took a step toward us as if he wished we were closer so he could strangle us as well.

“Aye. Said for you to return home. Leave behind the quest to slay the dragon.” I approached him with my fist held out. Didn’t fear his touch. If he touched me, he’d die.

He held up his palm and I noticed his fingers were green. Reminded of Celeste’s bruised fingers when I helped her escape this place.

I opened my fist and let the medallion fall.

Before I could breathe, he snatched up the coin and squinted at the engraving. He rubbed over the medallion with dirty fingers as though it was some saving token of the gods.

“We don’t have much time.” I stepped forward and unlocked the remaining chains, careful not to touch his flesh. “If I distract the monks, can you escape through the back? The kitchens have a door leading to the hog trough. The stables are to the right.”

“Thank you both.” He smiled. “I’m Gillespie.”

“Brock and Nivel,” I answered.

The final chain was loosened.