The fall of skullkeep, p.15
The Fall of Skullkeep, page 15
“You know… it just occurred to me I hadn’t introduced myself. My name is Jennifer.”
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Jennifer. I am Arne.”
Jennifer replied with a smile and a nod as they continued on their way to Tel Roshan. Arne looked toward the road, and she allowed her gaze to wander over him. Perhaps, it wasn’t such a bad idea to travel incognito after all.
CHAPTER 16
The new day dawned clear and bright, and Jennifer couldn’t believe how rested she felt for having slept on a bedroll under a travel tent. Their camp was in the center of a copse of conifers, something Arne called a traveler’s waystation. A prepared fire pit—complete with ceramic pipes to duct air to the base of the fire—made the center of the camp, and felled logs laid around it served as seating. The stream that burbled nearby was a bit on the cool side for bathing, but a whispered Word of Evocation handled that.
A fresh set of clothes were a bit more challenging, especially since she hadn’t packed a bag or anything, but she teleported back to her dad’s estate and stepped through the portal for a change of clothes… all under the guise of a nice long bath. She didn’t want to risk too much of Arne’s credulity, so she stuffed some folded clothes in a canvas satchel and brought it back with her. When she returned from her ‘bath,’ Arne regarded her new satchel with a slightly skeptical eye but said nothing. After a quick breakfast of trail rations, they saddled their mounts and set off once more.
They rode in silence for a few moments after leaving the copse of trees before Arne spoke. “I should warn you. There’s a forest coming up that straddles the border between Mivar and Roshan Provinces, and the highway winds through it. For the most part, it’s a safe stretch of road… but… every so often, a group of people who believe themselves marginalized decide to take up banditry. If there’s a lot of traffic on the highway, they usually keep their heads down, but if there’s only a wagon or two or just us, they might put in an appearance. You any good in a fight?”
Jennifer fought the urge to smirk… and mostly succeeded. “That depends on what you call a fight.”
Arne barked a laugh and nodded. “Fair point. The more ‘professional’ outfits have both archers and footmen. If there’s more than six in the overall group, we might want to avoid a confrontation. Do you have any coin you can afford to sacrifice if it comes to that?”
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll make do.”
Arne cast her a side-eyed glance. “You sure are an odd one, Jennifer.”
“Are you sure your marker for odd isn’t skewed? I think I’m fairly normal.”
Her traveling companion chose to yield on that one, and they moved on to other topics, the clip-clopping of the horses’ hooves serving as a backdrop to their conversation.
A few hours later, noise that sounded almost like a pitched battle reached their ears, and they rounded a curve in the road to find a three-wagon caravan beset on all sides by bandits. Canvas stretched across ribs covered the wagons, which radiated a low level of Tutation to Jennifer’s skathos. She wondered if it was a protection from elements or something else.
But that was a matter for another time.
“There’s no way to know who’s on which side.” Arne scowled as they took in the melee. “I see a couple people cowering in the wagons, so they’re probably non-combatants, but otherwise, this looks like a free-for-all.”
Jennifer gave Arne her own sideways glance. “We have to stop this, just to sort out who’s who. I’ll handle it.”
“How will you—”
Before Arne could finish his question, Jennifer focused on a clear image of her intent in her mind, then invoked a Word of Enchantment. “Thymnos.”
She didn’t do anything to constrain her power at all, and it slammed into the ambient magic like the detonation of a stick of dynamite tossed into a tranquil lake. Pain savaged her guts as the invocation took hold, and Arne gasped and clutched at his left wrist as every armed person collapsed to the ground.
One tear escaped each eye as Arne held his wrist, and his voice was a little strained. “Are they…”
“Just asleep. Those people hiding in the wagons shouldn’t be affected. I focused on putting the armed people to sleep.”
She wasn’t sure how to interpret the look Arne gave her before he nudged his horse up to a slow walk. As he neared the first wagon, Jennifer just barely heard a terrified voice.
“Please, don’t hurt us! We surrender!”
“You’re safe.” Arne waved in a ‘come out’ gesture. “Come out and help us sort out these people. They’re just sleeping.”
Jennifer nudged Ajax up to a slow walk and joined Arne just as a young woman peeked her head out of the covered wagon. Stringy hair the color of hay framed a face masked with anxiety and a small thread of terror.
“They’re just sleeping? You’re sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” Arne gave his best attempt at a reassuring nod. “My friend is an arcanist; she did it so that we could sort out the good people from the bandits without harming anyone.”
She came the rest of the way out of the wagon, revealing that she held the hand of a smaller child who seemed very intent on sucking his (or her) thumb. The child was young enough that it wasn’t easy for Jennifer to determine gender, and she didn’t know enough about the differences between boys’ and girls’ clothing in this world to hazard a guess.
The young woman cast a nervous—almost fearful—glance over the sleeping fighters, and she worked her lower lip between her teeth. “How long will they be asleep?”
“I can wake them up one by one, once we secure the bandits,” Jennifer replied. “Do you mind helping us figure out which is which?”
The young woman gave a choppy nod, still pressing her lip between her teeth.
A couple more people emerged from the other wagons by then, all casting their own fearful glances at the mass of sleeping fighters. Arne nudged his horse forward and introduced himself and Jennifer twice more, once for each wagon. Jennifer watched someone in the very last wagon look her over before directing an urgent whisper to Arne. He then turned around in his saddle, allowing himself a grimace as he too looked her over once more. He nodded and turned his horse to come back to Jennifer.
“I don’t suppose you happen to have any proof that you’re one of the good arcanists, do you?” he asked when he arrived once more at Jennifer’s side. “That lady back there didn’t see a wizard’s medallion, and we all know that the arcanists who follow Milthas or are allied with Skullkeep don’t wear them.”
She tried. Jennifer really tried to maintain her nonchalance, but a heaving sigh escaped her control. “I was hoping to keep this part of my identity a secret. Do you promise me that you won’t spread this around?”
Arne chuckled. “I’m not promising anything until I know what we’re discussing.”
In reply, Jennifer used her thumb and finger to grasp the silver chain that hung around her neck and lifted her medallion into view. Arne’s eyes shot wide—almost wider than Ajax’s hooves—as some color drained from his cheeks and neck the moment the Glyph of Kirloth on her medallion came into full view.
“How… who…” Arne’s voice came out strangled, as if he had to voice air to move so he could speak.
“The Archmagister is my father. It’s complicated. He trained me in the Art while he was away; that’s part of why it’s complicated.”
Arne nodded and took a couple slow, deep breaths. Then, he nodded one more time before turning his horse around and riding him back to the woman who’d raised the concern. Jennifer could see a visible change in the woman’s demeanor during that exchange; the woman was much more relaxed, seeing Jennifer’s medallion glinting in the patchy sun that broke through the arboreal canopy overhead.
After a few more moments, Arne turned his horse and once again rode back to Jennifer. “So… how long will they be asleep?”
“Uhm… until I wake them… maybe? I wasn’t too precise on duration when I invoked the effect. I just wanted to put every armed person in the melee asleep.”
Arne puffed out a breath. “Right, then. It sounds like we have some time. Can you tell if there are more bandits anywhere close?”
Jennifer frowned as she considered the question. She should be able to invoke a Word of Divination and reveal any bandits who hadn’t joined the fight but still remained close. She rubbed her chin as she considered the question further, trying to decide what form she wanted the divination’s answer to take. She suspected her dad would use something he called a scrying sphere, but she didn’t have much experience with those. Or maybe the sphere was how the invocation manifested naturally?
She bit back a growl and shook her head. She was taking too much time thinking about it. She formed her intent in her mind and focused her full concentration on that mental image. All that remained was to invoke the Word of Divination.
“Klaepos.”
Once again, her power struck the ambient magic completely unchecked. It was a steam-driven battering ram hitting a thousand-year-old castle wall that had never been repaired. Arne gasped again and clutched at his left wrist.
“Dammit, woman, don’t you know how to trickle your power?” His question came out strained. “Every wizard for who knows how far will know you’re here with a resonance like that.”
It was time to confirm her suspicions. She kept her head down just a little bit and facing straight ahead while she peeked at him from under her eyebrows, all while giving him a playful half-smile. “And just what would you know about how much power I’m throwing around? I don’t see a medallion around your neck.”
Arne’s expression as he met her eyes wasn’t quite a glare, but it would do until the real thing came along. The glare faded as he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Then, he glanced behind him over his right shoulder; no one was close enough to see. He held out his left arm just enough to give her a good—though clandestine—view and pulled back his sleeve… revealing the tattoo of a Wraith.
Jennifer didn’t quite gloat, but she did grin. “Thought so.”
“So, your father told you about us?”
Now, she couldn’t keep from beaming a huge smile. “Told me about you? Arne, I’ve met Declan and watched him spar with Kiri.”
He gave a slow nod. “Yeah… that would do it. Very well. It’s good we know where we stand with each other, and yes, I will keep your secret if that is what you wish. Let’s get these people sorted.”
Before long, the caravan’s people were awake and checking over their wagons for damage, while the would-be bandits were standing with their hands tied together and tied to each other. Tel Roshan was far closer than Tel Mivar, at least according to Arne, and Jennifer agreed with him that they should take the bandits with them, rather than burden the caravan. After several rounds of gushing thanks for saving them, the caravan went on its way, leaving her and Arne with their prisoners.
A short time passed in relative silence as they rode toward Tel Roshan before Arne turned to her. “So, any particular reason you didn’t fully introduce yourself when we met?”
“I wanted to get a feel for this place without being under my dad’s shadow.”
“Yeah… good point. Kirloth—whether your dad or his mentor—casts a pretty long shadow in this world. I can’t really blame you for wanting to see people’s honest reactions without it looming over you.”
“Did you know Dad’s mentor? The man he called Marcus?”
Arne nodded. “Oh, yes. Everyone in our organization knew him. He was a fairly major force of nature in his own right, but then again, you’d have to be if you personally dueled a god… and won. He had very defined views and opinions on what was right and wrong, and he didn’t mind going a little dark if it served the greater good. Sure… it’s easy to say that going dark for the greater good is an oxymoron, that no good can come from going dark. But I’m not so sure of that. He did an awful lot to safeguard this world during the centuries everyone else thought him dead, and our organization served as his eyes and ears throughout the world.”
Jennifer nodded. Both her dad and Kiri had talked about what it meant to be Kirloth, and there was a chance—very slim, but still a chance—that she herself would be Kirloth one day. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Wasn’t sure she was up to the… responsibility. But she wouldn’t know if she didn’t learn more about the world and the role Kirloth served in it. She probably wouldn’t truly know if she was up to the task until it came to her, but that was a matter for the future. Hopefully, the far future.
Arne rode along at Jennifer’s side in silence. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of her revelation that she was Kirloth’s daughter. Probably Young Kirloth, in fact… given that she was an adult and fully trained arcanist.
He fought the urge to shake his head in dismay… and mostly succeeded. It was his kind of luck that he’d fallen in with the one person who could more easily ruin his plans than any other soul walking the world.
Young Kirloth… damn and blast.
Could he afford to keep her with him? Could he afford not to?
One thing was certain. He couldn’t let her follow him around like a puppy once they reached Tel Roshan. That would end any hope of achieving his objectives.
The Wraiths paid well enough, but he wasn’t getting any younger. And the Necromancer had offered him immortality. Sure… it would probably end up being some form of undeath, but he didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to just… stop.
That thought scared him more than anything else in his life. That, one day, he’d simply end. That there wouldn’t be anything left of him, beyond a moldering corpse planted in a stretch of ground somewhere.
No. If he could find a way to cheat that outcome, he’d do so without a second thought.
Who cared if the price was going against everything he’d held dear his entire life? He certainly didn’t.
A stray thought crossed his mind, and he paused to consider it. Should he try capturing Jennifer and taking her to the Necromancer with the information he—or maybe it—wanted him to steal? That would surely guarantee his success, right?
He risked a glance toward his traveling companion. Nothing too obvious, just a slight turn of the head to facilitate more than his peripheral vision.
She was powerful. Very powerful. He wasn’t sure he’d ever known any arcanist as powerful as she was, and that was including her father. Of course… he’d never been around the Archmagister when he was wielding the Art, but he still remembered what it had felt like when the man ended slavery. He wasn’t sure he’d ever forget that pain from his tattoo.
That—more than anything else—convinced him he had no business trying to capture Jennifer for presentation to the Necromancer. It wasn’t the kind of thing to fail at on the first try… and what was worse, he might just succeed.
He had no idea what ‘Dear Old Dad’ might do if someone abducted his daughter, but he was damn certain he never wanted to find out.
He wanted to sigh, but kept it in. No… the only thing to do was keep her with him for a time and then tell her he had some business or something to do that wouldn’t work if she was with him. He could part company with her and deliver the information to Skullkeep with her none the wiser.
It wasn’t an ideal plan. It wasn’t even all that good of a plan. But it was the best plan he had at the moment. Such was the nature of life at times.
Jennifer wasn’t sure what to make of Tel Roshan. It looked just enough like Tel Mivar—at least inside the walls—that there was an almost eerie, ‘deja vu but not quite’ feeling as she followed Arne down the main thoroughfare to the nearest guard post. She hoped they’d be able to hand off their prisoners without much fanfare, and she really hoped Arne would be able to keep her out of it as much as possible. She didn’t like revealing her identity in a formal report. Showing Arne her medallion was one thing, but a formal report might make its way to her dad before she was ready for him to know she was here.
“This street looks so much like the one I saw in Tel Mivar that it’s eerie.”
Arne snorted a laugh. “Yeah… all the province capitals are like this to a degree. Kirloth—your father’s mentor—and his apprentices raised these cities from the very bones of the earth. I don’t know if they didn’t realize how similar they made the cities, or if it was a conscious choice, but I’ve experienced the same thing in all of them except for Tel Cothos. They raised that city on an island in the middle of the lake that feeds the Vischaene and a couple other rivers; that alone makes for quite a different ambiance.”
The thought of a city sitting atop an island in the center of a lake brought a smile to her face. “I’d like to see that.”
“No reason you can’t. Here… we can hand off our associates at this guard post.”
“Keep me out of it as much as you can, please?”
Arne glanced her way over his shoulder, a half-smile curling one side of his mouth. “I will.”
It wasn’t long before Arne returned, the would-be bandits now in the custody of the Tel Roshan guard. He swung up into the saddle without a word and nudged his horse up to a slow walk. Jennifer nudged Ajax to follow. Once they were well out of earshot of the guard post, he broke the silence.
“If anyone should ask—which they shouldn’t—the caravaners and I were able to subdue the bandits.”
“Got it.” Jennifer nodded. “What if the bandits start talking about the wizard who put them to sleep?”
He scoffed. “Guards aren’t in the business of putting a lot of stock in what criminals say, especially if they’re repeat offenders, and a few of the ones we turned in carry the brand. They’ll say anything to escape the noose, but it won’t save them.”
