by H. M. Clarke
“I feel like a complete idiot, I should never have been caught like that, much less try to block a weighted mace like that with my shield.”
“It was either that or he smashed your head Ryn. I saw it. You did the only thing you could,” Ashe rushed in placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Dagan frowned at that.
“Thanks for helping me Ashe.”
Ashe smiled down at her.
“No one ever thanks the healer,” Donal mumbled drawing a laugh or a snigger from those around him.
Kathryn, Ashe, and Donal were surrounded by bodies and weapons in every direction. Donal had already tended Kathryn’s wounds and now he stood up and began checking everyone else. Dagan sighed. He throbbed with exhaustion, but could feel his inner pool quickly replenishing. A twig snapped behind him.
One of the Tribunal men. “Magister, the prisoner is secure and ready.”
“Thank you. I’ll be there momentarily.”
“Sir,” the man acknowledged with a bob of his head before stepping away.
Dagan turned back to Kathryn. “You did fine. But you are right. You do need to stop letting people use you for a pell.” He grinned to soften his words and felt an unexpected warmth flood in his chest when she smiled back. He nodded to the others, hooked his staff by its strap over his shoulder, and left them to follow in the tracks of the Tribunal officer.
The man was bound, warded and inhibited. Left kneeling in the mud of the junction with the smell of burning, blood and burnt hair all about him. The man was still slightly smoking. Parts of his clothes had been burnt away and where the skin showed was either red raw or blistered. Blonde hair had either melted or been burnt away from his head and face, making him look more a mangy dog than a man. A Magister handed the man’s staff to Dagan.
He felt the warmth of the wood seep into his hands as he held it up to examine. It was made of white maple and had been smoothed and polished from constant use. Dagan fed it a trickle of magic and its sides lit up with blue runes. He was surprised. The power he felt emanating from the runes was far out of proportion to the magic he had released. The staff also contained a metal core. Whoever had created this staff was a master. No wonder this mage was able to weld magic strong enough to stand up to his spells. Dagan withdrew his magic, and the runestaff transformed back to white maple. Eyes slid up from the staff to the man sitting on the ground between two magisters and found the man watching him intently. A suspicion formed in the pit of his stomach.
“I am Magister Drake. I need your name.”
The man sneered at him as best he could with burnt and blistered lips and his muscles began to relax, but then suddenly tensed as his eyes shifted toward the woods. Dagan followed his gaze. Vannik had reappeared from the trees. Fully clothed this time.
“Vannik, a moment?” He gestured to him and the big man strode over to them with the offending cloak slung over one shoulder.
“What do you need Dagan?” he asked looking curiously at both the magister and the charred man.
“I know he’s not looking his best at the moment, but do you recognize him?” Dagan nodded to the prisoner.
Vannik looked again at the prisoner. The man turned his head away, showing the worst of his burns and singed hair. But he could not hide his eyes. They say that the eyes are windows into the soul and they looked as bright as they did when the man appeared from the woods.
Vannik’s own eyes frowned a moment and then widened in surprise as recognition struck him.
“It’s Ben Henly.”
Henly turned his head and looked Vannik straight in the eyes. “Hello Vannik.”
“Hello Ben.” Vannik’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing with this lot?”
Ben scowled and turned away again.
“Answer him.”
The man looked up at him. Looked at Dagan’s grip on the white maple staff. Looked at Vannik. Looked away.
“I have nothing to say to either of you.”
Vannik turned to Dagan. “Bron wants to kill him. Shall I bring him over?”
“Bron? He’s here?” Dagan saw a glint of fear in the man’s eyes. The first genuine emotion he had seen in the man.
“I’ll go get him.” Vannik turned to leave.
“Wait!” Ben tried to throw out his hand, but had forgotten they were tied. “Wait.” The magisters on either side of him grabbed him by the shoulders and set him back down.
Vannik stopped and looked back over his shoulder.
Dagan arched an eyebrow in surprise. He knew that Bron had a bad reputation on the back streets of Kaldor, but instilling the fear of Bellus into a man like Ben Henly?
“Why should I give you mercy after what you did to me and my brother? You turned me in to the Tribunal and ruined Bron’s business.”
As Vannik spoke, Dagan could see his persona change. He was no longer the happy, gentle man he usually was. He became the powerhouse that ran the best intelligent and information network in Mrycea.
Ben’s burnt lips pursed in distaste. “Because I have information that may interest you… for a price.”
“You have no bargaining power here Henly,” Dagan said. “I have a state warrant for your arrest on treason charges.”
“Treason? What treason am I accused of?”
Dagan frowned. “Plotting to assassinate the King Regent.”
“And that warrant was important enough to send you out after me wasn’t it?”
The frown deepened. Henly’s smirk appeared again. The magister on Henley’s left tightened his grip, digging his fingers into one of the burns. Henly hissed in pain.
“Are you saying that you are here to kill Dagan?” Vannik took a step back toward Henly.
Henley turned dark eyes to Dagan. “Kill or detain. Someone just wanted you out of Kaldor.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“Kimba was right.”
Ryn was stretching out her arm and side after Donal’s Healing charm had spliced everything back together. It was stiff and a little sore but at least she was whole. Dagan was standing next to her, brooding. He and his magisters had just finished securing their new star prisoner in the second wagon. His words struck her as odd. “What do you mean?”
“Something she said to me a few days ago.”
“At least you got your man.”
Dagan gave her a grim smile. “Yes, I got my man.”
“What do we do now?,” Donal’s voice lilted from several feet away as he watched Ashe, Banar and the other Blackwatch drag bodies into a pile on one side of the junction. The terrible stench of the battlefield flooded her nostrils, of blood, viscera, and singed flesh. Ashe came up next to him, wiping sweat off his brow and leaving a bloody smear. “Are we sure we have them all?”
“I’m sure. Henley wouldn’t have made an appearance otherwise.”
Dagan winced, gritted his teeth. Blood trickled over his hand. Ryn grabbed Dagan’s wrist, looked him over. Under the cloak was a huge set of rents in his hardened leather cuirass.
“What is this?” she demanded, staring into his golden eyes. He shrugged. “I’m fine.”
“What. Is. This.”
He drew in a slow breath but coughed before his lungs filled.
“Off with the armor. Now.”
He held her gaze, face an unflinching mask. “No. I’m fine. I’ll heal myself when I’m ready and not before.”
The tone was hard. Cold. And the intensity shocked her. Ryn took a step back, unsure. Over the Link, she could feel nothing. He had locked it down.
“Dagan.” Vannik’s voice rumbled behind them. Ryn thought it sounded both part warning, part consoling. Dagan turned from her and looked at him.
“Acting like an ass is not going to change anything. Pushing away those who want to help is not the way to protect them.”
“Protect them? Me? From what?” Ryn leapt on Vannik’s words.
Dagan glared at Vannik and Ryn felt rather than saw her friend’s presence behind her. They too were interested in what Dagan ha
d to say.
“Dagan, if you don’t tell them, then I will. Ryn’s your Pair now. If you are being targeted, then she will be too.” Bron came and stood next to his brother, adding his height and bulk to Vannik’s.
“The traitor in the Tribunal doesn’t worry me,” he replied.
“The Tribunal? There’s a traitor in the Tribunal? Is that what Henly told you?” The words tumbled quickly from Ryn’s lips as worry and excitement took hold of her.
A moment’s hesitation and then Dagan slowly nodded. “This person is Ben Henly’s handler, which, if what he says is true, now makes them a Traitor to the Crown. They knew that if Henly raised his head from hiding that the Lord Tribune would send his most trusted field agent to bring him in. And that agent is me.”
“But, you’re a Wilder Mage? You said so yourself. You are not employed full time for the Tribunal?” Ryn said. “Why would anyone go to this much trouble to get rid of you?”
“That I do not know, which is why we need to get to Kaldor. We need to find this person and bring them to justice.”
“What about this group of fanatics we just broke up?” Donal asked from behind Ryn. “Are they real or just a set up? In my opinion setting this all up just to get you seems to be just a bit of an overkill don’t you think?”
“This group has been about for a while, Donal,” Dagan replied. “What they were testing here was a long term operation. But their sloppiness marked them out as expendable to be used against me. They don’t know who their bosses are. The only person they know is Henly, and I suspect that he doesn’t know the identity of the person he works for, only that he’s in the Tribunal.”
“We only have his word that his boss is in the Tribunal Dagan,” Banar piped up. “What makes you think he is telling you the truth?”
“What you should be asking is, if Henly is working for a traitor in the Tribunal, then who among these Magisters we have here can we trust?” Bron’s words dropped heavy between them all, shutting down all further conversation in the matter.
Ryn found her eyes drifting away to stare at the Magisters going about their duties around them, wondering if any of them were traitors to the crown.
Blood dripped from Dagan’s hand. Ryn glanced over at Donal, who was standing behind them both, nodded her head imperceptibly toward Dagan. Donal’s staff began to glow a pale purple, and before Dagan could object, he cast his healing charm. Purple infused into Dagan’s shoulder and side and Ryn could see his taunt muscles visibly relax as the pain was taken away. He then spun around on Donal.
“Don’t.” Ryn caught him by the shoulder. “Yell at me if you must, I made him to do it.” Dagan turned on her, anger brewing across his face. “You were in pain. I could feel it. And you weren’t going to do anything about it.” Her face softened. “I can’t stand to feel you in pain.”
He glared at her a moment longer and then his face softened. She could feel the change over the Link and for once he did not shut it off. “I’m not going to yell at anyone,” he said quietly and laid a hand gently on her shoulder. Ryn smiled up at him but then it dropped as the weight of their situation weighed down on her.
Dagan wrenched his gaze away from Ryn and looked around at the Blackwatch and Magisters working about them. “I can guarantee the loyalty of most of the Magisters here,” he said keeping his hand on Ryn’s shoulder.
“The Blackwatch here can be vouched for,” Banar said.
“And the Blackwatch we can’t vouch for are being held in one of the wagons as trial witnesses,” Lily added.
“Which means that we should be safe traveling to Kaldor. We can make sure that these criminals are taken into safe custody at the Tribunal and they get their just desserts in the eyes of the law,” Ashe said.
“What are we going to do now?” Ryn asked.
Dagan returned his gaze back to her.
“We are all going with the caravan to Kaldor, deliver our prisoners to the Tribunal and then hunt secretly for the traitor in their ranks.”
END OF BOOK ONE
Coming Soon
Book 2
Uprising
Thank you so much for reading and I hope to see you again. If you enjoyed the adventure, please consider leaving a review. It’s extremely helpful to authors, since readers will sometimes skip right over books without many reviews.
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John McCall just wanted to get a surprise for his men. Instead he got a disemboweled body.
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Howling Vengeance. A supernatural mystery in the Old West.
Available now at your favorite Online Bookseller
THE ENCLAVE
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Katherine Kirk lived only for vengeance.
Vengeance against the man who destroyed her home, her family and her life.
Sent on a babysitting mission to Junter 3, RAN officer Katherine Kirk, finds herself quickly embroiled in the politics between the New Holland Government and the Val Myran refugees claiming asylum.
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Winter’s Magic
Book One of The Order
Kaitlyn Winter is biting at the bit to become an active agent for the Restricted Practitioners Unit. And on her first day in the job she is thrown into a virtual s**t storm (to put it nicely).
First, she gets targeted for Assassination by The Sharda’s top assassin
Second, her Werewolf best friend decides that her being ‘Straight’ means she can’t protect herself and places her in protective custody
Third, the love of her life still won’t notice her existence and the Tempus Mage who’s set to keep an eye on her is infuriatingly attractive….
You can find out more information and sign up for Hayley’s monthly newsletter on her website
http://www.hmclarkeauthor.com/
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
In a former life, H M Clarke has been a Console Operator, an ICT Project Manager, Public Servant, Paper Shuffler and an Accountant (the last being the most exciting.)
She attended Flinders University in Adelaide, South Australia, where she studied for a Bachelor of Science (Chem), and also picked up a Diploma in Project Management while working for the South Australian Department of Justice.
In her spare time, she likes to lay on the couch and watch TV, garden, draw, read, and tell ALL her family what wonderful human beings they are.
She keeps threatening to go out and get a real job (Cheesecake Test Taster sounds good) and intends to retire somewhere warm and dry – like the middle of the Simpson Desert. For the time being however, she lives in Ohio and dreams about being warm…
You can find out more information and sign up for Hayley’s monthly newsletter on her website – http://hmclarkeauthor.com
http://eepurl.com/SPy61
Or catch her on Twitter - @hmclarkeauthor
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