Seer of Souls (The Spirit Shield Saga Book 1) Page 23

  “Laurista, I plan to leave the band at our campsite this evening and go on ahead. I want to scout out this Denzik fellow and see what he has to say. I would like you to accompany me.”

  She nodded. “Yes, and we should take a couple of the old Kingsmen along. They may recognize this fellow.”

  They arrived at the shoreline of the river, the banks gently sloping toward the water’s edge. The river slowed and almost stilled as it widened, and lily pads adorned with fuchsia blooms dotted the marshes formed by the sluggish flow. Frogs made plopping sounds as they launched themselves into the water and out of the path of the horse hooves. The trail led directly out onto a sandbar and disappeared off the end.

  One of the scouts waved from the opposite shoreline where the trail picked up again after exiting the river. Ryder gazed up and down the river. It felt strange to be exposed after attempting to hide from enemies’ eyes for so many miles. Shrugging his shoulders, he touched heel to flank and urged his mount into the waters. Laurista followed.

  About halfway across, the sandbar ended and a rocky stream bed was exposed, the water tumbling over the slippery surface. The horses picked their way slowly across the river bottom and reached the other side without incident.

  Darius crossed behind them with two other band members to join the scouts. Both men who had come with Darius were Kingsmen. Darius trotted up to Ryder as his horse climbed the bank, water streaming from her legs.

  “Are you going on ahead, sir?”

  “Yes, that was my intention.”

  “We would like to accompany you, if we may. You should not go off alone. There are those who would love to know who leads the band, I think. I fear for your safety.”

  Ryder frowned at the words. He did not like the idea of having a guard, in truth. He understood having an honour guard to create an image of power, but only in special circumstances.

  “I think they are right, my lord,” said Laurista.

  “Very well, but you are not my guard, understand? We leave as soon as the band has safely crossed.”

  The band set up on the riverside for the evening, their tents sprawling in a semicircle from the banks of the river. The smell of roasting fish permeated the air.

  Two hours later found the seven of them riding away from the camp. The scouts led the way, taking a direct route through the trees ending at the Cathair Road. An hour of such travel dumped them onto a rough stone and dirt roadway. They headed south, passing occasional wagons and the lone rider, but traffic was sparse, most having reached their destination before the sun stretched on the horizon.

  Near dusk, they came upon a wagon train pulled off the road and under a grove of trees for the evening. Ryder motioned the others to stay back and dismounted, approaching the campsite on foot. A man and a woman tended a cooking fire and started at his sudden appearance.

  “Good evening, kind sir and miss. What news from the road?”

  “Good evening to you also. As we are travelling the same direction, how could you have not heard the news?”

  “My companions and I have been travelling cross-country and only just arrived at the main road. We are curious as to the news in these parts.”

  The man and woman gazed back to Ryder’s companions. “Would you like to join our camp this evening? We have some provisions to share.”

  “That is very kind of you. Perhaps we can share conversation and a meal, but we will be travelling further this evening.”

  Ryder tied his mount’s reins to a low branch, allowing some slack for grazing then motioned the others to approach.

  “My name is Mark and this is my wife, Joy. We are wool-dye merchants, bringing dyes to the mills on the coast.” He motioned toward his wagons, their contents shrouded under large tan canvas tarps.

  “I’m Ryder, and this is Laurista.” He made introductions of the other men. “We are travelling to Cathair to meet up with a friend, who preceded us to town. We have heard talk of legions on the move and were wondering if there is unrest on the road ahead? Have you heard any news?”

  Joy stirred their bubbling pot of stew and then moved over to make room for Laurista to sit beside her on the ground. Laurista smiled her thanks then settled in to listen to the men speak.

  “There have been rumours of a great battle between a legion division and some rogue men. Some of the rumours say they are Kingsmen although everyone knows they have been gone for near twenty years. Others say they are rogue bands from the north, come south to challenge Her Majesty’s conscription laws. One such rumour, I credit more than the others. A wounded soldier stopped us by the roadside early in the morning today to beg water and a change of clothes. He was bloodied from head to toe and spoke of wolves attacking them in the midst of a battle.” Mark frowned at the spoon in his hand. “One thing was certain. By the rips in his clothing and the scratches and gouges on his limbs, he did appear to have battled wolves. He spoke of an encampment of men who were being led by a dangerous young lord sought by the queen for treason. They had been sent to secure the peace, but then the wolves attacked and they fled.”

  Ryder sat up straight at the mention of the wolves. Cayden, he thought.

  “Did this man speak of where this battle had occurred?”

  “It was not far from here…a few miles ahead as the road goes.”

  “So this soldier was returning to his legion?”

  “No, he was heading to the capital to gather reinforcements, I believe,” said Mark. His wife nodded in agreement. “We had been considering turning around because of this news. War is never good for commerce, you know, unless you are a camp follower. Perhaps you would be so kind as to accompany us for as long as you can? An armed guard is not a bad thing in these troubling times and we can see by your posture and by the weapons on your mounts that you and your men are not unaccustomed to danger. There is greater safety in numbers.”

  Darius and Laurista exchanged glances. Ryder spoke in response to her affirmative nod. “We would be happy to have you journey with us. We are headed for a small village on the outskirts of the capital. Our friend’s name is Denzik, perhaps you know him?”

  “I can’t say I do. However, there is a small village called Lower Cathair with a marvelous inn and the best bakery in the realm. We stay there often. Perhaps we can find your friend there if we ask around.”

  “How much further is this village?” Ryder scanned the horizon, judging the amount of daylight left.

  “It is about a three-hour ride from here.”

  “I would prefer to continue on this evening then, if you are not too weary from your travels.”

  “It would be nice to sleep in a bed this evening, if one would be available,” Mark said.

  “And have a proper bath,” piped up Joy.

  “It is settled then. We leave as soon as we finish eating.”

  Chapter 44

  THE CAMP AROUND CAYDEN STIRRED like a kicked anthill. Some men swarmed over the wounded, while others picked up their fallen comrades and carried them to the perimeter of the camp to prepare them for burial. The few dead wolves were also picked up and carried to the edge of the camp.

  Ziona rested in her tent, having fallen asleep after sipping some of her potion. She had insisted the rest she had prepared be shared with the wounded men and it was being passed around from soldier to wounded soldier.

  The decision had been made to not move the camp that night. Their presence was obviously known as was their destination.

  The few soldiers who had escaped were no longer a threat. Whether they returned to their base camp or travelled directly to the capital to give warning and an account of the battle to their superiors, either meant they were no longer a direct threat.

  Another attack was slim, yet they doubled the patrols, just in case.

  Tobias became Cayden’s self-appointed bodyguard by refusing to leave his side. He stood a short distance away from Cayden, legs spread, feet firmly planted, arms folded across his chest. His scar stood out lividly against his pal
e skin and his lazy eye jerked from the glare he shared with all who approached Cayden. The effect was quite frightening, Cayden thought, as he rested against a log outside of Ziona’s tent.

  Cayden picked up the branch he had found and turned it over in his hands, inspecting it, but for once carving held no interest for him. The peace he normally found in the familiar activity eluded him. The events of the last few hours have unnerved me, he admitted reluctantly to himself. He felt Ziona’s presence behind him. He could almost see her dreams as she slept. Flashes of images crossed his mind when he focused on her, a wooded glade with tall ferns swaying and a door set in the trunk of a tree.

  He shook his head to clear his thoughts and focused on Avery instead. It had been ages since he had thought about his sister. He felt worry and concern in the air and a spikey wave of fear assailed his senses. She was in trouble and he felt it as intensely as if he was standing beside her.

  Avery? He called to her mentally, trying the same method of communication he had done with Ziona. Surprise and caution flooded back at him.

  Cayden, is that you?

  Yes. Are you all right? I sense fear in you.

  After you left, Father and I left with a Primordial woman named Sharisha to go to the land of the Primordials. Right now, we are in the pass to the Primordial lands. There is a huge army camped at the foot of the pass, thousands of legionnaires. The Primordials are also massed in the mountains, and I fear that there will be an invasion soon. I will contact you later.

  Stay safe! he whispered back with his mind, out of habit, and the connection broke. He sucked in a deep breath. The fear he felt through the bond was incredible. It made him itch. He felt an urge to leap to his feet and draw his sword, yet there was no enemy in range. Instead, he began pacing, back and forth in front of his tent. Five steps. Stop. Pivot. Five more steps. Stop. Pivot. Tobias kept pace with him, and sensing Cayden’s distress, dropped his arms to his side, one hand resting on his sword hilt.

  Cayden stopped pacing and stopped to stare in the exact direction of Cathair. That tugging was back, but stronger and more intense. He felt…well, it felt like a massive mind was pulling at his, calling to him. It was impossible to focus on any one thought; although he sensed a vast intelligence behind it.

  He must get to Cathair. Further delay was pointless. Whatever is pulling at me will not leave me alone, and delay would not assist Avery. I must continue on the path laid out for me and confront it. It was time.

  ***

  Mordecai sat in the semi-darkness, eyes partially closed. A flame danced on the upturned palm of his hand. He focused on the flame and observed the quality of the light, the prisms of colour in the flickering flame. The heat source pulsed, a heartbeat of light. Into the flame he poured his conscious thoughts and the flame expanded them, lightened them, causing them to drift to the roof of the cavern cell, up through the floors above and into the open air.

  His will continued to expand, ever wider and wider, seeking the destination created in his mind. His thoughts searched, shifting on the winds, sliding here and there over man and beast, to finally settle on a young man asleep in his tent.

  “Cayden,” he whispered. “Cayden, you must come to me. Do not delay.” Cayden rolled over in his sleep, mumbling. “You must hurry. Time is short. Seek out Denzik. He can be found in Lower Cathair.”

  “Lower Cathair,” Cayden mumbled to himself, still asleep.

  “I will be waiting for you here.”

  “Lower Cathair…Denzik…” Cayden snorted and then rolled onto his back and snored as his mouth dropped open.

  ***

  The guards drew their swords and quickly checked the shadowed chamber. Anthony stepped up to the body and examined the middle-aged man. There was no wound visible on the body.

  Anthony lifted the man as Fabian untied the rope from the lantern bracket, allowing the body to be lowered to the floor.

  “Who is he?” Fabian asked the guards as they approached, having determined there was no one present in the hallway.

  “This is Wendell. He is the meal and chamber steward that we bribed, the one we were supposed to meet. He must have come down early?”

  The taller of the two guards shrugged as they exchanged glances. “We did not let him in though, so how did he get here?”

  “If he was here to work, then where are the chamber pots he should be removing? Perhaps he had not reached his destination? In which case, where are the meals he was to deliver?” Fabian walked around the man, examining the body.

  The guards noted the lack of any work-related objects. They frowned in unison, clearly perplexed.

  “When did you two come on shift?” Anthony asked.

  “We have been on since early this morning, our normal eight-hour shift, seven in the morning till three in the afternoon,” said the shorter of the two.

  “And you let no one into these access halls?” asked Fabian.

  “No one has come down to the dungeons in the past eight hours. We have the keys right here for this door.” He shook the key ring and the keys rattled. “The only other set is with the queen, but we would know if the queen came to inspect the prisoners.”

  Fabian frowned at the men. “You realize you are incriminating yourselves?”

  The two guards frowned, consternation playing across their faces. “We patrol these halls every two hours,” said the shorter one.

  Fabian touched the dead man’s body. He was cold, but rigor mortis had not set in yet. “His death occurred within the last two hours. It’s odd, though; his body shows no sign of other injuries, no indication of a struggle. I believe he knew his killer.”

  Anthony walked around the body and nodded in agreement. “We need to check the prisoner cells and make sure he was the only victim.”

  The four of them spread out to search. The hallway was intersected in quick order by narrower halls, lined with cells, four on either side of their main hall.

  The two guards took the first set of intersecting hallways and Fabian and Anthony continued on. The lantern light flickered in the cool ventilation breeze, a constant feature of the clammy dungeon. The two guards’ shadows overtook them as they checked the cells at the next intersection to check the next section. Most cells were empty, and in the few occupied the prisoners were unhurt.

  Eventually, Fabian and Anthony came to the hallway level with the Traitor’s Gate doorway. This intersection had only one branch to the left with a spiral set of stairs winding deeper into the earth. With a nod, Anthony took the hallway toward the suspected location of the Traitor’s Gate, drawing his sword as he left, lantern light bobbling in his wake.

  Fabian held his lantern high to light the treacherous stairway. At the base of the spiral, he nearly tripped over a tray of congealed food and an abandoned chamber pot which had been hastily put down. The contents coated the stone floor.

  Fabian stepped around the mess, wrinkling his nose, and then continued down the rough-cut passage. This deep in the dungeon, the corridor was roughly hewn as though it had been hastily chiseled as an afterthought. Only two cells were found this deep down in the passage and were reserved for the most heinous of prisoners. Fabian walked up to the left-hand cell and raised his lantern, light flooding the chamber. A white-haired elderly man blinked at him in the sudden light.

  “I am relieved to find you well, Mordecai,” said Fabian.

  “Was there ever a doubt?” Mordecai rose to his feet and walked over to the door. “I fear my dear friend Wendell has not been so lucky. I heard a commotion at the end of the hallway as he left my chamber and a short while later I heard voices echoing down to my cell. They shone a light on me and then left. I am sure I recognized the voice. It has been many years and not nearly long enough since I heard it last.”

  “The guards’ keys are accounted for, so unless someone copied them, there is only one other possibility,” said Fabian.

  “No doubt the keys have been copied, but I have not seen any recent use of them. No, I believe this w
as a random inspection by the queen, checking on her prize prisoner. Wendell is dead, I take it?”

  Fabian unlocked the cell door. “Yes, he was found hanged inside the cell access chamber.”

  “Made to appear as a suicide?” Mordecai asked.

  “Yes, I think that was the idea,” said Fabian.

  “Poor fellow, he was a good chap in the end. I am truly sorry he was on duty tonight. Queen Alcina felt the need on this particular evening to check on me. Unfortunately, Wendell spied her leaving my cell. I believe she did not want any witnesses to her interest in me. Would you see to it his widow receives this?” The wizard reached up into his sleeve and pulled out a leather purse, bulging with coins.

  “How in the world did you manage to acquire all that in a prison cell?” Anthony’s eyes widened, in surprise.

  “The guards get as lonely as the prisoners do. What harm can come of relieving a poor prisoner of his coin?” Mordecai chuckled. “Fortunately, I am rather fond of cards and possess a keen eye, so I am rather lucky as a result.”

  “Aren’t you leaving with us?” Fabian frowned at the wizard.

  “No…no, not quite yet, I think. I believe it would give the game away and it appears Her Majesty is growing nervous and suspicious, hence her visit to me this afternoon. There is a secret passage from the royal suites to the prisoner cells. Did you know that?”

  Fabian shook his head, bemused.

  “She often visited me in the early years after my capture,” mused Mordecai. “She thought she could torture a first wizard and have him tell his secrets. I am happy to report she was wrong.” A smile lit his wrinkled cheeks. “Soon I shall leave these cells behind, but not quite yet. You, however, must be prepared. Gather the Kingsmen where ever you can find them. The time to reclaim the kingdom approaches. Let those loyal to the true House of Cathair know. Let the people of the Spirit Shield know their king has returned.”

  Fabian nodded in understanding. “Diversions have been set up within the castle, as we planned. Our people are in place.” Fabian chuckled. “Nelson owes me some coins as I finished first.” Fabian turned the key in the lock to Mordecai’s cell and retraced his steps up the hallway to the stairs.