Tides of Faith: Travail of The Dark Mage Book Two (20 page)

When his eyes fell upon Kip, they
narrowed slightly. “I thought I left…”

Before Kip knew what was happening,
the man’s arm reached out, grabbed him by the front of his page
tabard and yanked him unceremoniously into the room.

The young novice stumbled and crashed
into the side of a small table, overturning a bottle of wine. When
he righted himself and turned around, the point of a sword hovered
less than a hair’s breadth from his chest. Swallowing hard, Kip
raised his eyes and looked upon an expression promising mayhem and
possibly death.

“Who are you, boy?”

Kip’s eyes flicked to the lady
standing near the bed. She wore but a flimsy gown that left nothing
to the imagination. Her hand was raised before her mouth as she
looked upon the scene unfolding before her with ill-concealed
fright.

He couldn’t blurt out his message
while she remained in the room. Both Jiron and the Dark Mage had
been most implicit on this point.

“No one can know we are
here,” the Dark Mage had said.

“But what if I can’t get
him alone?”

Jiron had given him a look
that spoke volumes. Emphasizing each word by jabbing his finger at
the novice, he had said, “Then you say nothing.”

Thinking fast, Kip replied, “I bear a
message from the Kirken Ambassador.”

Pain blossomed as the sword point
began digging into the front of the tunic.

“Don’t lie to me, boy.”

The sword point left the middle of his
chest and settled upon where Black Hawk’s insignia had been
embroidered into the material. Ceadric once again applied painful
pressure. “I know every Page in service to Lord Black Hawk and you
are not one. So I ask you again, who are you?”

The pain inflicted by the sword
slowly, yet inexorably, increased while he remained silent. His
eyes flicked to the woman. If not for her, he could speak freely
and deliver his message. Fabric parted beneath the pressure until
the blade reached skin. Kip backed up until he came into contact
with the table. The blade advanced in equal measure.

He was going to die right there if he
didn’t do something drastic. Young though he was, he had much
experience getting out of tricky predicaments such as this. One who
failed to adapt quickly to threatening situations doesn’t last long
when they lived on the streets.

Grabbing hold of the table edge with
both hands, Kip thrust his upper body back over the tabletop while
at the same time bringing up his foot to strike the blade. Then
with legs arcing through the air, Kip rolled across the tabletop to
land upon the floor on the opposite side of the table.

The woman screamed when a blade
appeared in his hand.

Ceadric took hold of the table and
thrust it aside. The overturned wine bottle flew through the air
and crashed upon the floor

Kip knew he was unlikely to receive
quarter from the aged Raider. Feinting away from the woman, he
quickly changed direction when Ceadric moved in that direction to
intercept him. With a cry, he raised his knife and launched himself
after the woman.

That was enough for her. Screaming,
she fled for the door.

“Call the guard,” Ceadric yelled as he
moved to place his body between the young novice and the woman in
flight.

Kip came to a halt as the sword once
again took position before his chest.

Ceadric gave Kip a crooked smile, then
said in a voice loud enough to carry out to the hallway, “He isn’t
going anywhere.” The sword point hovered less than a hand span from
his chest as his expression turned dark and eyes full of promised
misery locked onto the young novice’s. “Are you?”

“No.”

The woman’s screams grew fainter as
her panicked flight carried her farther down the
hallway.

“Now boy, I…”

“Miko and The Gardener wish to
talk.”

Kip searched Ceadric’s eyes for
understanding. At first there was irritation for having been
interrupted, then confusion quickly followed as he mulled over the
words.

Rapidly approaching footsteps
announced the imminent appearance of the guard.

“They said to
mention
Brook’s Hollow
.”

There were very few who
knew that The Dark Mage was also known by the title,
The Gardener
. Neither The
Dark Mage nor the High Priest was certain if Ceadric had ever
known. Jiron had suggested mentioning
Brook’s Hollow
for it had been the
gathering place for Black Hawk’s Raiders when Illan assumed the
infamous title once again.

He may not have known
anything about The Gardener, but the High Priest hadn’t been the
High Priest at the time. At the time when Black Hawk resurfaced,
and his Raiders had gathered at
Brook’s
Hollow
, the man now known as the High
Priest of Morcyth had been only Miko.

“Sir!”

Guards rushed in. Two took hold of Kip
while others searched the room for accomplices. Questions were
asked and summarily ignored.

Eyes never leaving Ceadric’s, Kip saw
how in a single instant, the man’s expression transformed from
confusion to understanding. The sword point lowered to the
floor.

“Shall we take him to the dungeon,
sir?”

Ceadric glanced to the young officer
and shook his head. “No. I don’t think that will be necessary.”
Sheathing his sword, he signaled for the two guards holding Kip to
release the young novice.

“Clear the room and post two guards
outside the door. No one is to enter.”

The officer looked quizzically from
Ceadric to Kip, then back again. “Yes, sir.”

Kip remained still while the guards
vacated the room. Once the door was closed and he stood alone with
the Raider Captain, he sighed.

Ceadric motioned toward a chair that
had been overturned during the earlier scuffle.

Kip righted the chair and sat while
Ceadric returned the table to its previous position and pulled
another chair forward so he and Kip sat on opposite sides facing
each other.

Elder fighter gazed uncertainly across
the table at the young novice. “What is your name, boy?”

“Kip, milord.”

Ceadric shook his head. “I’m no lord,
son. Call me Captain.”

“As you wish, Captain, uh,” Kip paused
a moment, then added, “Ceadric?”

The Raider Captain nodded. “Right hand
to Lord Black Hawk.” His expression darkened ever so slightly. “If
this is some trick…”

“No trick, mi’, I mean, Captain. I am
a novice in service to the god Morcyth. There have been certain
events of which you need to be made aware.”

“So it would seem.”

“The Gardener had been away and has
now returned, though he would prefer the world to remain ignorant
of that fact. At least for now.”

Ceadric nodded. “I can appreciate
that. There were rumors that he had been killed.”

Kip shook his head. “He is very much
alive, I assure you.”

“What does he want?”

“I think I should leave that for him
and the Reverend Father to explain. I was merely to find you and
deliver their message. And if you are willing, to guide you to
where they are waiting.” He paused a moment, then added,
“Alone.”

At that, the Raider Captain arched an
eyebrow. “How do I know you are who you say you are? It would seem
odd for one of your station to be sent as messenger.”

“I was all they had, Captain.” Kip
couldn’t help but let a small grin show as he said, “And since I am
here talking with you, I was the right choice.”

Ceadric’s solemn demeanor broke and a
matching grin surfaced. “So it would seem.”

“As for how you are to know I am who I
claim to be, you must take that on faith.”

The grin vanished.

“I would like to apologize for scaring
the lady as I did. It was the only way I could think of for us to
be alone so I could deliver my message.”

“Well, I’m sure she will overcome the
terror of the moment. You are a brave and resourceful lad,
Kip.”

“Resourceful, maybe. But brave? Up
until you cleared the room, I was quaking in my boots.”

Ceadric cast a quizzical look to the
uniform Kip wore. “A Page’s boots?”

Kip tried looking sufficiently
remorseful when he replied, “Well, about that…”

Al-Ziron lay quiet at this late hour.
Two cowled figures walked in silent procession from the Keep. One,
smaller than the other, led while the second followed three paces
behind holding a throwing dagger.

After much questioning, Ceadric had
believed him, to a point.

“I shall go to this meeting, young
Kip. But I warn you,” pulling a slim dagger from his boot, he
showed it to the novice, “if this is a trick, you will be the first
to die.”

Kip swallowed hard and nodded. “It is
not a trick, I assure you.”

They had waited within the room while
two cloaks with deep hoods were brought to shield their identities
from unfriendly eyes. Ceadric had at first balked at such covert
requirements, but Kip had said that The Dark Mage had requested
it.

Now, Kip led the Raider Captain
through darkened streets lit only intermittently by street lamps
and open doorways. His shoulders tingled, fearing that at any
moment the point of Ceadric’s dagger would find its
home.

They were en route
to
The Split Cauldron
, a less-than-reputable eatery located on the fringe where the
poorer quarter merged with the better part of town. Its upper story
boasted rooms that could be had for a day, or even by the
hour.

Kip did his best to remember the
route, but soon became lost in the unfamiliar territory and had
been forced to seek Ceadric’s aid in reaching the
eatery.

The Raider Captain had cursed a blue
streak when informed of their destination.

“It’s on the other side of
town!”

Kip withered beneath the verbal
barrage.

Grabbing the young novice, Ceadric
thrust him in the right direction, still keeping a three pace gap
between them. When they came to intersecting avenues, he would
instruct Kip as to which way to go.

After what seemed an eternity the sign
bearing a cracked, leaky cauldron came into view. It was a three
story establishment, the upper two levels devoted to rooms that
few, other than beggars and the destitute would ever consider
staying in.

No less than three beggars bearing
various handicaps from loss of hands, eyes, and stumps for legs
held forth hands at their approach. Ceadric didn’t so much as
glance their way as he swept past and entered the eatery’s common
room.

The smell was appalling. Acrid smoke
wafted forth as the door opened. Kip detected the odors of at least
two illegal substances in the air as he followed the Raider
Captain.

“They are on the next level above,
second door on the left. Knock three times, followed by
two.”

Ceadric nodded and turned for the
stairwell. Kip fell in behind.

An old man in ragged clothes lay
passed out on the floor before the first step and they had to step
over the prone body. Midway up, another man, this one probably in
his early twenties stared with vacant eyes. A smoldering weed
clutched in-between his lips.

It was the leaf of the Millae Plant. A
single leaf, when rolled tightly and smoked, can offer the user an
intense high for a short duration. Kip had known a few that used
the drug. They said it opened their minds to the gods. While under
the drug’s effects, visions would come.

Kip never thought much of
the drug. Those who used it tended to have burns upon their lips
because the drug rendered the user nearly comatose. The weed would
continue to burn until the smoldering end reached the lips. By
then, though, the user was so out of it that they failed to react
when the smoldering weed burned the tender flesh. Considering the
numerous scars on both upper and lower lips, this man was obviously
a regular user of
Millae
.

More mind-numbed denizens
of this place filled the second floor landing. The odor of
Millae
was
overpowering.

Kip heard Ceadric mumble something
under his breath, something along the lines of having to “clean
this place up,” as the Raider Captain stepped over the overlapping
bodies.

The hallway was little better. A woman
dressed in little more than a single wrap that did little to cover
her feminine attributes leaned against the second door on the left.
Her eyes were as vacant as those on the landing.

Ceadric glanced from the woman to Kip.
Upon receiving Kip’s shake of the head indicating he didn’t
recognize her, the Raider Captain nudged her farther into the
hallway. She took two wobbly steps before stumbling over another
lying upon the floor. Neither she, nor the man upon whom she fell
made a sound.