ALICIA – LOYAL BANNERMAN INN, PORT CHANDREX, KLYDOR
9TH KENNOVASHAE, SPRING 845 PBM
The journey to Chandrex turned out to be much easier than Alicia had feared. The stretcher for Davon was built quickly and easily, with the only interruption being when Alicia needed to properly bandage Mitchell's arm.
Mitchell’s wound, though painful, did not significantly impede him. With Davon’s condition temporarily stabilised and now securely slung between Alannor and Swifter, Davon's mount, the group resumed their travel. Taking minimal breaks for food and to rest the horses, they had reached Chandrex in just under three days.
And most importantly, they had not encountered any more trouble.
Now Alicia found solace in an actual bed in a real tavern, with a room all to herself. Davon had been entrusted to the church, and the care of much more experienced healers. Which meant Alicia could get some real rest for the first time in days.
This also gave her time for reflection.
‘Hawkin’s mood has enlightened considerably since reaching the city. I suppose waking up at sword-point and being forced to defend himself out of the blue rattled him. During the goblin wars Hawkin had always been ready for an attack and knew exactly who and why he was fighting. It appears taking that away had shaken the big man more than he would ever admit.’
‘By remaining calm and asking Mitchell reasonable questions, at least I have been able to put together somewhat of a picture of what is going on. It does kind of make sense that Maragon is really an adventurer of sorts, and not just a crazy old hermit. Teaches me for ever listening to town gossip. Of course when you can never meet the man himself, and Mitchell refuses to tell you anything, what else did I have to go on.’
‘Was still a shock to hear his strange tower in the woods is actually a secret headquarters from which he fights evil. I just assumed its main purpose was cutting off the real world. In fact, Mitchell insists Maragon and his allies do the exact opposite, keeping an eye on events in the world and intervening if required. If true, it sounds very noble.’
‘In fact, this whole crusade sounds like exactly what the church of Chandrilar are training me for.’
While Chandrilar had followers all over Driax, none moreso than in the kingdom he first established, those who could actually channel prayers into divine powers were still quite rare. Across the entire church of Chandrilar there were perhaps 100 people who could be called Clerics; those with the gift to manifest prayer into actual magickal effects. The fact Alicia could, meant she was truly one of his chosen.
‘It is my solemn duty to use these gifts to fight evil, and to uphold Chandrilar’s core tenets of Chivalry and Duty.’
‘So what do I do?’
She pondered recent events and tried for the hundredth time to solve a puzzle she knew was missing too many pieces.
‘What do I know? I want to say Mitchell isn’t a liar, but he has sure been keeping some secrets. But let’s assume what he is saying is true. Then Maragon goes of an adventure to fight an unknown evil. Something goes wrong. Maragon races back to the tower, gives some mysterious object to Mitchell to take to Chandrex, and then sends him away.’
‘But I don’t get to know what the object is, other than that Mitchell carries it in a pouch inside his tunic. I probably pushed him on that for longer than I should have, but in the end he was more stubborn than expected and would not tell me.’
‘That boy can be so frustrating. It is like he is two people. One is a naïve boy who is shy, scared, not very good at anything, and desperately seeking acceptance from the world. The other is a stubbornly secretive fool who clams up and won’t talk about anything real when it comes to Maragon, or his life in the tower. And he might also be a wizard! Chandrilar give me strength.’
‘Hawkin remains skeptical, seemingly unable to believe that Maragon is not the hermit that the village thinks he is. At least I was able to convince him to stop arguing each point. He is too much a warrior to properly conceal his body language, but at least he stopped upsetting Mitchell, allowing conversation to remain as civilised as possible.’
‘Hawkin did bring up one interesting point however. Mitchell had let slip back at the camp that Maragon was meeting him, with no mention of the rest of us. While it could be nothing, Mitchell's reaction made it quite clear that Maragon was not expecting anyone else. Mitchell promised to clear everything up the moment Maragon arrives but I am unsure of how easy that might be.’
‘What do I actually know of Maragon? Stories and rumours alone! No one in Garet has seen him in years. I know Mitchell lives with him. But Mitchell has never been generous with information on that aspect of his life, and I assumed he didn’t talk about because he didn’t want to, so I didn’t push him. He has said more on the man in the last few days than in the ten years prior. I have absolutely no idea what to expect when this mysterious wizard arrives. In fact, without Mitchell, I would not even be able to tell if he has arrived. I do not have the faintest idea what he looks like.’
‘Mitchell is so adamant he will come, and that he will survive no matter what has confronted him - even though a stone tower could not. If true, that is unsettling. This man would then be far more powerful than anyone in Garet ever dreamed’
‘Next time Hawkin wants me to follow him in the middle of the night I will listen to my better judgement and decline. I should have known these two would be sure to bring trouble, but this time they have even exceeded their previous efforts.
‘But then, perhaps Chandrilar wants me to be exactly where I am. And perhaps those two idiots are the burden he wants me to bare.’
It was with thoughts such as these that Alicia finally laid her head down on her pillow, and looked up at the beamed roof of the Loyal Bannerman Inn. Less than five yards away a second bed lay unoccupied except for Davon's equipment, which had been thrown there by Hawkin shortly after having arranged for the priests of Chandrilar to tend to Davon’s injuries.
‘I hope Davon recovers soon. But with the severity of his wounds I suspect he could be in their care for weeks, or even months yet. What if Mitchell needs to keep moving? Will he leave Davon behind? Would I stay with Davon or go with them? I have a duty to both? Based on my vision, I guess I go with Mitchell.’
Recalling her vision drew her thoughts to Mitchell.
‘In the room next door Hawkin and Mitchell are no doubt doing their best to kill each other. But at least by staying in this reasonably nice quality establishment, the walls are probably thick enough that I will not hear them, Or for that matter, the drunks downstairs after the whiskey and beer glasses start to pile up on the tables.
Considering all that has happened, things have turned out reasonably well. I have a warm meal in my stomach and a comfortable bed to sleep on. Davon is in the best possible hands and should recover completely.
Other than the fact that Maragon might show up tomorrow and bring who-knows-what with him, her mind was as clear as it had been since she had closed the back door on her family house three nights ago. Within minutes she was fast asleep and for a few hours the worries of the world were forgotten.
MITCHELL – LOYAL BANNERMAN INN, PORT CHANDREX, KLYDOR
9TH KENNOVASHAE, SPRING 845 PBM
“I do not think that would be a wise course of action Hawkin. Maragon will get here tomorrow and...well...you know,” stammered Mitchell, a plea for reason in his voice.
‘Please give up on this idea and just go to sleep!’
“But we are in Port Chandrex for Faylen's sake. I mean you've heard all the stories of the nights here, what with all the sailors and travellers passing through. It would be a great shame indeed if we didn't just sample a bit of it,” argued Hawkin.
Ever since Alicia had retired to her room almost an hour ago Hawkin had been trying to pursuade Mitchell to sneak out with him and enjoy all that Chandrex had to offer. Chandrex was actually quite tame compared to many other cities such as those in far-off Drasnia or Drasak, but for the two townsfolk of Garet, this was a plethora of new opportunities.
“But I told Alicia we would behave and get some sleep,” Mitchell pleaded, his resolve waning.
“I thought we gave her the other room so that we could slip out tonight. Why else would you let her have all the luxury?” Hawkin asked, honestly dumbfounded by Mitchell's actions.
“Once you ruled out sleeping in the common room, there wasn’t really a way for the three of us men to share one room. And surely you would not share a room with a lady unless the situation absolutely demanded it?” Mitchell asked, his voice showing signs of shock and amazement. “Would you?”
“Ah, but I have. Several times in fact. I found it most enjoyable,” Hawkin replied, a big smug grin enveloping his face.
Hawkin regarded Mitchell's reaction strangely for a moment, letting the silence hang awkwardly for several seconds. Then he burst into uncontrollable laughter at the look of complete horror on his friend's face. “You mean to tell me you have not! You need this trip into the city more than I realised.”
Mitchell felt an unwelcome blush of shame and self-consciousness. ‘Why do I feel guilty for doing the right thing? ‘Why do I now feel shame and self-conscious for doing the right thing? I wish the wood paneled floor would just open up and swallow me.’
Hawkin continued to stare at him regardless, with a look of wonder such as a young child may give when seeing something for the first time.
“I didn't know you gave her the room out of some kind of moral standard. Had I known that I would have argued for it myself a bit more,” grumbled Hawkin, “But seeing how it’s too late for that now I guess I'll have to make the best of it by dragging you by your ear at least to the bar downstairs. If you don't like it, you can come back up. But you have to give it a go. What do you say?”
‘I want to feel like I belong! That I am normal!’
Hoping to restore some dignity in his friend's eyes he conceded, and with a resigned shrug of his shoulders he nodded his head. A feeling of dread closed over him as Hawkin grabbed him by the shoulder and began to lead him out the door. The sound of the door to the room closing ended all hope of escape and he started to traverse the stairs to the hell below. His anxiety started to rise.
JOSAK – WAREHOUSE DISTRICT, PORT CHANDREX, KLYDOR
9TH KENNOVASHAE, SPRING 845 PBM
Josak Norgette waited impatiently in the shadowy confines of the warehouse, Drogan standing silently at his side.
‘The Brigade’s failure to capture the Stone from Maragon’s young apprentice irritates me no end. But I must concede it is not the fault of the Brigade’s new leader. Drogan has tracked the quarry flawlessly, and has already seemed to instill a sense of discipline in the men that was previously missing. Of course that could just be fear of my killing them if they fail me again. Fear is an incredible motivator.’
As always I have contingency plans, and if this one succeeds then the Stone will yet be mine. It is a risky plan, one that I am sure might cost me more than a few resources. But if Agess Travers has been able to set the bait to lure the Saranti Seven to this very warehouse, then it could all work out well.
As the two men responsible for closing the trap made their way into the warehouse, Josak felt his vision pulled to the roof of the warehouse, where construction work was just finishing.
‘With Razilin’Tera’s blessing, tonight will bare witness to some of the most powerful events in Chandrex’ history. And I will be the conductor for this magnificent orchestra. And best of all, this will only be the opening Act. Just a shame I will not be here to witness it first-hand.’
‘Springing a trap such as this is always a calculated risk, and I must ensure that regardless of what happens, I am not the one caught in it. No, I can conduct events from elsewhere within Chandrex, and allow the acolytes on site to be the focus point.’
As the two new arrivals reached him, their vision was also drawn to roof.
“What’s that?” asked Gerard.
“A blessing from my Master to you,” replied Josak.
‘Not entirely untrue. But given this blessing could well result in your death, probably best you know no more of it.’
“Is it dangerous?” asked the other man, a much leaner man with beady eyes and a sharp nose. It was he who had put out the information onto the street that there was a cache of Kestrel artifacts in the warehouse, and that a magnificent ancient sword was among them.
‘You are the fisherman who baited this particular trap. You have proven yourself useful. It would be a loss to the cause if you were to die here.’
“To you… No,” replied Josak.
‘This is also not a lie. The likelihood that Agess Travers will actually draw his weapon and fight is basically none. You will flee if the battle starts to turn against you. As such, the spell contained in this roof is no likely danger to you.’
“I look after my friends,” he continued. ‘OK. That is a lie.’
“Down to business,” interjected Gerard. “You will see the pretty Indian trinkets are all here. So nice to see you turn a profit in all of this. Where did you want me to bring the boy?”
“Take him to the safehouse,” replied Josak. “But be quick about it. You will need to be back here with your friends before midnight. The Saranti Seven could be here at anytime.”
“Do we need to keep any of them alive?” asked Gerard.
‘I can see from your face you want this answer to be ‘no’, but you are expecting me to say ‘yes’. Then this is your lucky day!’
Gerard was already looking around the warehouse and the various crates and other items scattered around the floor, clearly planning out his ambush to maximise the advantage of surprise.
“Actually, I specifically require them to all be dead,” replied Josak.
“Don’t you require information from them,” asked Agess, a look of confusion on his face.
‘Do not assume your pitiful limitations apply to me. You are not one of the chosen of Razilin’Tera.’
“Fortunately I can extract information as easily from the deceased as I can the living… Actually, its easier if they are dead,” replied Josak. “Might pay to remember that if you ever get the foolish idea of betraying me.”
“Handy skill to have,” replied Gerard, non-plussed about the rather macabre facts Josak had just revealed, or the implied threat. The shudder of revulsion from Agess showed he was not quite so comfortable with the notion.
“Is everything in place?” Josak asked of Agess. “Are they going to come?”
Agess carefully considered his response.
“I have arranged for the information to make its way into Javelin’s possession. I have also arranged for another man to verify this information. Of course it helps that there are actually Kestrel artifacts here. If this sword is as important to them as you say, then they will definitely come.”
“Will all of them be here?” asked Gerard.
“I cannot be sure,” replied Agess.
“They will all come. It is too important not to,” assured Josak.
‘All of the Saranti Seven in one place. A perfect trap to take them all out at once. Javelin, Brother Turin, Samtha, Ragnar Gunnulf, Rivas Sciandria, Balinor, and my most hated foe, Maragon Ward. Each of you have thwarted my order over many years, and I will earn much praise from my Lord for finally wiping your little band from the face of Driax.’
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“Do you have my payment?” asked Agess. “I have used up a lot of favours for this, and I don’t think I need to explain the risks involved for my whole network if any of them escape.”
Josak reached into his tunic and retrieved two small pouches of gems. He handed the larger one to Agess, and the smaller one to Gerard. Agess immediately opened the pouch and started examining each of the brightly coloured stones in detail.
“Do you not trust me?” asked Josak.
“Josak, I know who and what you are,” replied Agess matter-of-factly, “Should you not do the same, Gerard?”
“I could not tell you the value of any of these stones even if I looked, so what would be the point?” he replied.
“I can do it for you if you like?” asked Agess.
“Agess, I trust you less than I do Josak,” laughed Gerard. “I have things to attend to, so I will see you later this evening.” With that Gerard turned and walked from the warehouse. “I need to round up my men. They will need to be sharp here tonight, and this had not been expected. I must find them before they are too inebriated to be of any use to us.”
“Then I think I will go too. I will see if I can find out where Maragon and the others are staying,” said Agess.
Once the two of them were well out of earshot, Drogan turned towards his new master.
“Did you want the Brigade here tonight as well?” he asked.
“No,” replied Josak. “You will stay on the trail of the children. I have seen the talents of your little group first-hand, and the Brigade would add nothing here except additional bodies for me to clean up.”
“I will go then and post sentries at the Port and on each of the city gates to see if they leave,” Drogan said.
“Very well,” replied Josak. “But they will not leave tonight. They have wounded, and I would expect Maragon will wish to see them before they leave.”
“Then, perhaps once I have the Brigade bedded down and the sentries posted, I might have permission to visit a lady friend I have here?” requested Drogan. Josak considered the request carefully. He smiled before responding.
“I will need you for one meeting, and then you may have the night off. Once you have the sentries posted meet me at the Rose & Thorn tavern near the Port District in two hours.”
Josak smiled at his own generosity.
‘Those who serve me well should be rewarded.’
THE SHADOW – THE HIGHTOWER ESTATE, NOBLE QUARTER, PORT CHANDREX, KLYDOR
9TH KENNOVASHAE, SPRING 845 PBM
The assassin known only as the Shadow dropped silently onto the balcony, and then into the room, taking up a position within the thick red drapes that covered the massive manor windows. His employer, Anders Hightower, was in the room, sipping a red wine, and talking with man unfamiliar to the Shadow. That was a problem, as he had information he needed to give to his employer immediately. But he could not risk exposing himself to this stranger in doing so.
He drew his trusted hand crossbow from his hip. It was much smaller than a normal crossbow, and without the armour piercing capability of its larger cousin. But it was more concealable, and it’s primary purpose was to deliver poison. He selected a small vial of sleeping poison from an assortment of glass vials in a special pouch on his belt. He loaded that vial into the bottom of his custom made crossbow. Through a combination of mechanical genius and a small amount of magick, any bolt he now fired would be dipped quite generously in the selected poison.
He waited until the stranger turned to pour himself another wine, and with the stealth that can only come from a lifetime of refining every movement of the body, the Shadow slipped from behind the drapes and fired. The poison would generally take only a few seconds. He counted to three. His target reached for his neck, where it felt almost like he had been stung by a bee. And then his knees weakened.
Andres Hightower, a tall handsome man, with long blond hair and deep blue eyes, had not even looked up when the Shadow reached the other man. As the figure fell to the ground, the Shadow caught him.
‘The wine!’
He reached out his left hand with lightning reflexes, and caught the glass of wine too, placing it back onto the table without spilling a drop.
Anders looked up at the noise, opening his eyes wide in complete shock at the dark-clad figure standing there looking back at him. Anders was wearing the well-tailored tunic and pants of a noble, with the crest of a Black Tower on one shoulder, and a Red Dragon on the other. And while there was a large bastard sword sitting in its scabbard next to his desk, the Shadow had no fear of this man.
“That will be reasonably difficult to explain when he wakes up,” said Anders drily, pointing at the fallen body on the ground.
“I have information you needed to hear. It could not wait,” stated the Shadow plainly.
Anders looked from the Shadow and to the fallen figure on the floor, and back between the two several times before motioning for the figure to continue.
“I followed Josak to a warehouse in the Port area. Josak has set a trap for Maragon and the Stone tonight using some Kestrel artifacts. They have told one of the Seven, a man named Javelin, that a Sword is there.”
While Anders carefully processed this unexpected news, the Shadow considered his employer and the company he kept. It was generally a good idea for an Assassin to have some conception of what their employer might be capable of. One of the most frequent causes of an assassin’s demise was their employer.
‘You and Josak are both followers of the Great Dragon, and therefore you have the same goals. But you are both jealous and petty, so you are more like rivals. You are not keen to see the older Josak come into possession of either the Stone or the Sword, so now you will decide if you wish to help, hinder, or try to subvert these efforts to your own gain. Why am I always disappointed by my clients? Good, honourable people rarely have need for a man of my services.’
Anders ran his hands through his long blond hair as he considered how to proceed.
“He has instructed his man, Gerard, to kill them all,” continued the Shadow. “He will gather the information from them after they are dead.”
“Gerard? Interesting. I wonder if Ronardo is part of this too then?” Anders pondered aloud.
‘Ronardo. A High Priest of Razilin’Tera, like Josak, and therefore your superior in the order. Although you see nobody as your superior. You have enough ambition that it could devour the sun to achieve what you want.’
“Surely Josak does not think Gerard and his men will be enough to capture the Saranti Seven alone. Is he planning to be there himself?” asked Anders, although really the question was mostly rhetorical. Anders was already shaking his head as he finished the question.
“He did mention a blessing from his Master. It was related to a circle of magick runes on the roof of the warehouse,” replied the Shadow. “I believe it was a summoning circle.”
“Could you tell what he was planning to summon?” asked Anders.
Ordinarily an assassin would be unlikely to answer such a question, but the Shadow was no ordinary assassin. He had studied many different forms of magick, and could even cast a few spells of his own. To be the best, the Shadow was always seeking advantages over both his competition and his prey.
“There were sigils to the Blood God, and to a diety I could not identify. But from the size of the circle, and the number of acolytes Josak had, I would expect it is a powerful demon.”
“Excellent. This is a fortunate break indeed,” Anders replied, his smile broadening. His eyes unfocused as he began to stare into the distance, “Josak, old friend, you have made a grave mistake playing around in my particular area of expertise.”
Anders looked intently at the dark-clad figure in front of him. The Shadow was covered head-to-foot in skin-tight black material. Anders had now spent several hours in his company, but the Shadow had ensured he knew nothing about him, or what he looked like.
“Can you read enchantments from magick scrolls?” Anders asked. This was a very rare skill generally known only to practitioners of magick, but the Shadow was a special individual who came with a very special price tag.
“I can,” the Shadow confirmed.
“Then we can take care of the demon. Just bring me Maragon,” instructed Anders.
“Alive or dead?” asked the Shadow.
“Unfortunately I do not possess Josak’s affinity for the Dead, so I require him alive. Bring me any other members of the Seven that you can, but Maragon is the priority.” Josak’s face twisted in thought, and then he added. “Actually, you can kill the priest, Turin. He has always irritated me the most, and let’s just say my boss and his have had some past disagreements.”
“Your will be done,” replied the Shadow.
KELL – THE DOCKS, PORT CHANDREX, KLYDOR
9TH KENNOVASHAE, SPRING 845 PBM
Kell was hauled roughly to the top deck of the ship by two of the crew. Weakened after several weeks of travel, starvation, and sea sickness, he lacked the strength to resist, so he co-operated, hoping to minimise the number of times they struck him, or pummelled him into something.
“Perhaps we should scalp him?” jeered the badly scarred sailor on his left. “I hear that is what they do to one of us if they capture us.”
“That sounds like an excellent idea. I bet his scalp could be sold for a few coins in the markets. Cityfolk love buying strange trinkets from the frontiers,” replied the dark skinned, eye-patch wearing sailor on his right.
“Enough!” barked Gerard from above. “I am the only one who may authorise any marks being put on our cargo.”
Kell was relieved he did not have to find out if the two sailors had been serious about their threat. But he was also afraid of Gerard. He had only seen Gerard once since Kell had thrown the bowl of soup at him, and that was when he reinstated Kell’s food. Each day Kell had been made to swear he would offer them no trouble, and in return he was fed. He had made that declaration at least twenty times now.
As he was brought up into the daylight for the first time in weeks, the bright light seared his eyes. He squinted and pulled one hand from his captors which he used to shield his eyes. He blinked until his eyes adjusted, but what he saw was so alien his mind could hardly believe what he was seeing.
This human ‘city’ was a gargantuan pile of stone and wood heaped together in a way that made no sense. The natural world had been destroyed and its resources raped to build house upon house for an incredible number of people to cohabit the same space. The number of people he could see scurrying around both on the docks, and all across the parts of the city he could see from the dock, was impossible for his mind to believe.
His mind was assaulted by the damage they had done to the environment in order to achieve this. His mind could not understand the ‘how’ of what they had done, but he also could not understand the ‘why’.
‘Why would people want to live like this?’
All his senses reported their outrage. The smell of the city was unlike anything he had ever encountered. It was like the worst combinations of sweat, salt and a latrine had all been mixed together and just laid bare for weeks to really let the smell germinate.
And the noise was also something entirely alien to Kell. All throughout the dock, and what sounded like the whole city, voices screamed, clamouring to have their message heard above the others. Kell’s knowledge of the common tongue was not good enough to make out half of what was being said, but the only thing worth screaming this loudly about should have been ‘fire’ or ‘we are under attack’. Looking around he was pretty sure whatever they were screaming about, it was not anything that important.
Kell found himself more terrified of this ‘city’ than he was of Gerard. Gerard looked at him, and could see the fear and horror upon Kell’s face.
“A sight to behold, isn’t it?” Gerard asked. Kell was unable to find any words, so he just mutely nodded.
“We have to go into that,” explained Gerard. “Co-operate on our trip, and I will protect you from the threats a city like this has for a naïve boy of the wilds like yourself.”
Gerard leaned closed, and his voice took on a mean tone.
“But fuck with me, just a little, as we may make our way through the city, and I will cripple you and leave you for the predators to do as they wish. I can assure you, the stuff these predators would do to you, would make anything a wild animal might do seem tame.”
Kell nodded his head in agreement. He reluctantly put one foot in front of the other and followed Gerard off the boat.
None of what he saw as he journeyed through just a small section of ‘city’ made any sense. People screamed messages to nobody in particular. He saw scantily women on upper balconies offering sex to people in the street. He saw drunk sailors staggering around the streets, several of them behaving poorly towards women just unlucky enough to be in the same vicinity, or fighting with each other over nothing in particular. And he saw what looked like sick and poor everywhere, begging for scraps of money, clothing or food. Perhaps most disturbing, was he saw the uncaring eyes of those around them, looking away and pretending not to see.
“Free lesson, always watch out for your possessions when amongst crowds. Assume everyone is a thief. Especially small children,” advised Gerard, pointing his gauntleted hand at two small street urchins moving their way through the crowd. Kell watched as one distracted a well-dressed couple who were holding hands, juggling three coloured cloth balls as he walked across in front of their path. He saw the second scurry up behind the unsuspecting couple, and bumped into the man from behind, but sliced his belt purse, taking all the contents in a smooth motion, suggesting the young thief was well practiced.
The young man apologised for stopping suddenly and causing the impact, oblivious to the fact he had just been robbed.
“Why did they rob him?” asked Kell. “What did he do to them?”
“Nothing. This is how they survive in this city. My guess is they are orphans, and most likely a thieves guild pays them a small percentage of what they take as food, and gives them a place to stay at night. For those kids it is as simple as rob people of coin, or be whipped and go hungry tonight.”
Kell shook his head incredulously. ‘How are we the uncivilised ones? We would never let a child fall so far. Ancestors, why would anyone want to live like this? If I manage to survive this, please let me never come to another city again.’
Twenty terrifying, alien and bewildering minutes later Kell was led into a large plaster and stone building, up several flights of stairs, and finally into a large suite on an upper floor.
“Welcome to your new home,” commented Gerard, as he pointed to a chair.
“Where are we?” asked Kell.
“This is the room of your new master. I would advise doing exactly as he says. You will not like what happens if you do not,” replied Gerard simply.
The single suite was larger than any lodging or tent Kell had ever seen. And it was full of strange things that seemed to have little function, but perhaps were intended to show how magnificent or powerful this man was. Much of what he saw throughout this building on the walk to this room was the same.
An elderly Indian man came into the room from an adjoining doorway. Kell recognised his clothing as that of a Kestrel lorekeeper, those within each tribe who learned and recounted the histories of the tribe and of the Indian people. He also wore a strange metallic chain around his neck that he did not recognise, but perhaps it was part of his outfit.
Kell felt an immediate and short-lived feeling of relief. The old man looked weary, and his eyes were downcast. When he looked at Kell, there was a brief spark in his eyes, but then he flinched, and he looked away, almost ashamedly.
“Who are you?” asked Gerard. His tone was not one of concern or alarm, but more of one who simply did not know who or why someone was here, and that he very much expected an answer.
“I am Atenáti. I will look after the young one from here. You may go,” replied the old man with a deep voice, and seemingly quite comfortable with the common tongue.
Gerard did not seem like he was thrilled with this outcome. He appeared to briefly considered his options, before turning to depart.
“OK. Just tell your master that I brought him here. What happens from here is not my responsibility,” he said, as he led his men out of the room.
Kell looked at Atenáti to see what he would do next. He was holding a glimmer of hope that this old Indian would be his saviour.
The old Indian looked at Kell sorrowfully as he went to a large black leather case and opened it. He carefully took out another of the strange metallic chains like he wore around his own neck, and proceeded to move towards Kell.
“What is that?” asked Kell, reverting to his natural Kestrel tongue.
“You will not like it,” replied Atenáti, in the common tongue.
“Then do not do whatever you are about to do!” replied Kell, again in the Kestrel tongue. Some part of him hoped if he kept using the Indian dialect he might appeal to his fellow Kestrel to help him.
“I cannot. I am afraid the chain itself gives me no choice,” replied Atenáti, again in the common tongue. “I am forbidden to even use the language of our people unless he gives me permission.”
Kell looked at the chain Atenáti was now lifting to put over his head. He moved away. Kell wanted no part of that chain.
Atenáti looked at him, as a grandparent might look like at a misbehaving child.
“Child, this cannot be avoided. All you will do is increase your own discomfort before the chain is put on you,” Atenáti told him.
“Still doesn’t mean I am just going to let you put it on me,” Kell replied defiantly. Kell ran for the door and tried to open it. As he reached the door he felt a strange flash of nausea wash over him. His limbs were strangely weakened, and were slow in responding to his command. He struggled on, managing to avoid falling, and he now had his hand on the doorknob.
There was a 2nd flash of nausea. And now strangely his limbs would not respond at all to his mind’s commands. He collapsed in a heap near the door. He tried to stand, but he could not. He tried to move. He could not. All of his limbs were frozen in place. He couldn’t even move his head to look back at Atenáti.
‘Was that Magick? Am I dying?’
“I am sorry my child. I do not wish to do this to you. But I have no choice.”
Kell could hear Atenáti walking over towards him. He both saw, and felt, the strange metal chain being placed over his neck. Atenáti took care to centre the strange circular clasp over Kell’s breastbone, reaching into his clothing to place the clasp directly in contact with his breastbone. Once his hand touched Kell’s flesh, he felt Atenáti’s hand recoil, almost like he had been burned.
“Ancestors, No!. He can’t be.” Kell heard Atenáti whisper. He could not see Atenáti, but for the next few moments he did not think Atenáti moved. Then he heard a grunt of anguished pain, and once again Atenáti was moving his hands towards him. He finished positioning the clasp against his breastbone, and he said something in a language Kell did not understand.
There was a strange clicking sound, and then Kell felt a sharp pain right through his breastbone. He couldn’t see what had happened as he couldn’t move his head, but it felt like his chest was on fire. He wanted to scream in pain, but he couldn’t even do that. He wondered if the chain was killing him, drilling a hole through his chest.
After thirty seconds the pain started to subside. He tried to move, and he found that at least his fingers and toes were responding now.
“Your ability to move will return slowly,” explained Atenáti. “Before you regain the ability to talk, and interrupt me incessantly with your questions, just listen very carefully and absorb what I am about to tell you.”
Unable to move in any meaningful way, and still unable to talk, Kell did the only thing he could. He listened.
“You are now the property of a man named Josak Norgette. In theory Klydor and many of the other places you may go will not recognise slavery so you will not always be called that, but the chain around your neck will prevent you from telling anyone that you are a slave. You will seem to everyone to be working with Josak of your own free will.”
‘I am now a slave?! Ancestors help me.’
Kell had regained enough movement that he could now turn his head a little. This allowed him to move enough to at least look at Atenáti. He could see a pained look on the Lorekeeper’s face.
“I am deeply sorry that you are now in this position. I understand exactly what you are feeling, and what you will continue to feel. I have lived like this for over a year,” continued Atenáti. “The collar makes it almost impossible to disobey Josak, and will cause you pain if you resist, or just take over your body and make you do as he has ordered. Even without being told, it will forbid you from doing anything which works against Josak, and it will not allow you to leave or escape.”
“What does he …” Kell croaked, but he couldn’t finish the words.
“…want?” finished Atenáti for him. “I suspect he wants you to lead his forces into the mountains and regain the Sword of Xarron. He believes he needs it to resurrect an old Dragon god of his. He captured me so he could extract all the information I had on old Kestrel legends and histories. He was seeking the sword. I am afraid I gave him the information that has led to the current outcome of he and his ilk sending forces into our homelands to recover the item he seeks.”
“Betrayer,” spat Kell.
“You cannot say anything that is worse than what I think of myself,” replied Atenáti coldly. “But we will see what you say after you have worn the collar for a few months. You are going to do a great many things you regret; I suspect. But you are young, and strong. Perhaps you will in time discover some way to defeat the collar, and regain your freedom as I have been unable to. That is one of the paths before you now.”
Kell found he was suddenly bone-tired, with a weariness to match the most fatigued he had ever felt in his life.
“You will be very tired for the next while as the chains work their magick on you. I will help you to a bed so you can rest. Do not try anything foolish. You are not strong enough to escape right now anyway, and the chains might just kill you if they try to enforce their will you on in your weakened state. Get some rest. I must take you to meet Master shortly.”
Too weak to resist, Kell allowed the old Indian to help him into one of the beds. And while his mind was in turmoil and horror, he found sleep came mercifully quick.