Daggers of Ladis

by RG Long

  “Squadron is at ease!”

  A collective sigh reigned over them as many of the troops scrambled into their tents. They had all been marching for such a long time that most wanted to try to assemble their half bunks and lay flat.

  Cas thought that wasn’t going to be the worst idea they’d had.

  “Cas! Rallet! Tret!” came the harsh voice of Oberon.

  Before he could even turn fully to see her livid face coming towards them, Cas could tell he was about to be in for a large amount of work.

  Turning his head, he saw Captain Oberon stomping towards them, her boots covered in mud just like the rest of them. Her blue uniform was drenched and her hair was sopping wet. But her face was red with fury.

  “Where is Dervon? Has he not reported yet?” she yelled.

  Rallet braced himself physically. Cas saw him hold onto his pack for support.

  “No, ma’am,” he replied. Cas thought his attempt at bravery was a good one, but still quite lacking.

  “Captain Fortran says he hasn’t seen him in an hour. What a disgrace. First being commanded to do something by some other captain and now failing to do the job assigned!”

  Rallet looked stunned. Cas and Tret exchanged glances. Before the three of them could recover, however, Oberon was shouting again.

  “Well?” she bellowed. “What are you waiting for!? Go find him and figure out where he’s been!”

  They threw their bags into the mud inside the tent and went running in the direction opposite Oberon.

  “And tell him how angry I am at him before he reports to me!” she called. “I want him shaking in his boots!”

  Cas scratched his head. He didn’t recall Fortran telling them what to do. He didn’t recall seeing Fortran anywhere near them at all. Rallet had surely just lied in order to keep Oberon off their backs. Had the captain really given Dervon scouting duty? Could they be that lucky?

  The three of them began their way through the rain, each looking as perplexed as Cas felt.

  “I thought Dervon went to go take a leak,” Rallet said.

  Tret agreed.

  Cas just shrugged his shoulders, and did his best to see through the pouring rain and the lines and lines of tents.

  It would nearly be impossible for them to find Dervon in all the myriads of ranks of soldiers. They all wore the same uniform and had similar features. Their best hope was for Dervon to not be wearing his helmet and to see them coming to find him.

  “Why do you think we stopped?” Rallet asked. Cas looked over at him standing on tiptoes trying to see over the tents and their fellow soldiers. “I thought for sure we would’ve kept walking until the rain stopped. Seemed odd to put up tents when it’s pouring.”

  Cas shrugged again. He didn’t have answers. He just wanted to not be stuck with Oberon shouting at him instead of Dervon.

  “Let’s check the back of the line,” Rallet suggested. “I think that’s where Fortran’s squadron is.”

  “But Fortran didn’t...” Tret began to protest.

  “I know!” Rallet shouted, stepping up to Tret. They were all tired and worn and would much rather be horizontal right now, rather than looking for a man who couldn’t find his way back to the tent after relieving himself. “But do you have any other ideas about where to search?”

  Cas certainly didn’t. He stepped out from between the two and walked forward.

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go look.”

  It took a half hour to find the back of the line. Myriads of soldiers milled about their tents. Many lay snoring inside of them. Others sat in the mud just outside the openings. The rain had just begun to let up. Cas was especially thankful for this. He was sick of the rain.

  “There’s Fortran,” Rallet said, pointing out the tall captain. Fortran was the tallest man in the army of Isol. He was easy to spot.

  “Let’s not ask him,” Cas said in a moment of inspiration. “We don’t want to tell him that Oberon may be looking for him. Better for him to find that out on his own.”

  The two captains were rivals. Their two squads knew this. It was part of the reason, Cas guessed, that Rallet had suggested his name when they were looking for an excuse to tell Oberon for Dervon’s absence.

  Ducking out quickly, they set off to the side of one tent. Cas hoped that no one recognized them. He suddenly realized it would be bad for some of Oberon’s squad to be sneaking around Fortran’s. The soldiers enjoyed the rivalry as much as they did berating the other captain’s troops and wouldn’t mind making punching bags out of them.

  He was just about to call out to the others that they should get to the outside of the camp, in order to see if Dervon really was patrolling, when a shout rose up.

  “Captain! Captain Fortran!”

  “Over there, Captain!”

  Cas instinctively ducked his head, thinking that other soldiers were pointing him out and trouble was about to find them in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was right about one thing. Trouble had found them. Ducking had saved his life.

  But ended Tret’s.

  A spear shaft of the dreaded lizard monsters stuck out of his chest. He dropped to the ground, clutching his heart, his eyes wide with surprise. In response, the Isol camp rose up to arms.

  CAS AND RALLET RAN as fast as they could. They had to warn Oberon. They were the squad that needed to pass on information. That was their task. This was essential. Most of the army of Isol was taking up their swords and spears as more and more shouts came from the edge of camp.

  The lizards were attacking with greater and greater ferocity.

  Men charged in the direction of the chaos as Cas and Rallet sped back towards their tent.

  “Captain Oberon!” Cas shouted as soon as they saw their squad’s shield on its pole. “Captain Oberon! Tell Her Holiness the lizards are attacking!”

  Their captain turned around from what looked like berating some of their fellow soldiers. They both looked beat up. Were they fighting each other? Or had they been so foolish as to challenge the captain? Oberon’s face was screwed up in anger and frustration when she looked at them.

  “What are you babbling about?” she shouted. “And now you’ve lost Tret, too!?”

  “Captain Oberon!” Dervon panted. “Lizards. Attacking the rear ranks. We need to inform Her Holiness?”

  “Lizards!?” Oberon said. “Is that what you’ve made up to...”

  She was cut off by the sound of the horn call of Isol. The army was getting to its feet. Other captains were calling for their squads to form ranks and gather their spears.

  “See?” Cas said. “Lizards, Captains.”

  Oberon’s brows furrowed. She breathed out, then without turning to look at him, grabbed the soldier she had been shouting at from behind her and pulled him in front by his hair. Through muffled protests and yelps of pain, she gave him orders.

  “Get the squad marching with the rest of the army,” she ordered the two beaten down soldiers. “Cas, Dervon, and I will go and inform Her Holiness of this. You and you, with me.”

  Cas didn’t need the violent point in his chest to know the captain meant him. What he did wish, however, was that he had more on him than his side dagger. There wasn’t any time to go back to the tent, however.

  Oberon was already on the way to Her Holiness’ palanquin. Cas and Dervon did their best to keep up with their captain’s unrelenting steps. It was difficult to match her pace after having ran half of the Isol camp twice.

  Before anyone could stop her, Oberon burst through the door of the special box in which Her Holiness traveled and shouted out her news.

  “Your Holiness!” she said, bowing as soon as she stepped into the structure. Both Cas and Dervon stumbled over her. “The camp is under attack by the filthy lizard vermin! What do...”

  She stopped her sentence as soon as she came up from her bow. Cas looked up as soon as he could, hoping to see that no one had seen their sloppy entrance. He was wrong.

  The scene in front of hi
m was frozen still as two women and a man stood over Yada on her couch. One woman with bright white hair held a spear and a few books in her hands. The other taller woman held a sword and an ax. The man had his hands around Yada’s neck. With a grunt, Her Holiness woke with a start.

  “What are you doing!?” Oberon shouted, grabbing for her sword. Cas and Dervon both drew their daggers and threw them at the assailants.

  Then everything began to move. The two women dodged the blades thrown at them, while the man pulled his hands up hard, yanking Yada from her couch, forcing her to cough and wheeze. Two guards came rushing into the chamber, as well as a slave without a shirt.

  With a thrust of the spear and a burst of light, the white-haired woman cut down one of the guards and bowled over him, letting the other woman follow her out a side passage. The man, however, was not fast enough.

  Oberon leapt forward and caught him by his ankle. Cas and Dervon charged forward as well. In the scuffle, the slave thrust himself into the mix. Cas grabbed the slave’s arm and pulled him aside as he tried to help Oberon pull the man to his feet. The slave put up no resistance, only throwing his hands up. Cas picked up his dagger from the ground and shoved it in his face.

  “How dare you come so close to Her Holiness,” he shouted. “Back away, light-skinned filth!”

  Cas looked into the eyes of the man he was threatening and expected to see him flinch at the sight of being so treated by an Isolian soldier. He was surprised, then, to see the slave gave him a cool stare in return.

  “That man is my personal servant,” said the raspy voice of Her Holiness.

  Cas dropped the man’s arm immediately, bowed in the direction of Yada and then backed away.

  “Forgive me, Your Holiness,” he said, not bringing his gaze up off the ground.

  “Stand and be still,” Yada commanded.

  Cas looked up and remained as stiff as he could, taking in the room. He had never seen the inside of Her Holiness’ chambers. Only her captains, generals, and servants ever did. His gaze fell on Oberon, who was holding her sword at the throat of the man who she held by his hair.

  Cas recognized him.

  “Barton,” Yada said, standing up slowly and placing herself on the couch she had fallen from. “What new tortures did you seek in coming back...”

  She paused. Her hand was around her neck, massaging where his hands had been. And her eyes went wide with fury. Cas saw the blue pendants in her hair grow to a bright blue.

  “How dare you?!” she shrieked, pointing a finger at Barton. The man screamed in pain, flailing even as Oberon held tightly to his hair.

  “Where is it!?” Yada screamed, her eyes a blaze of blue and her face a contortion of anger. “Where is it, you fool!?”

  If Barton had wanted to answer, he couldn’t. Cas was sure his screams would echo throughout the Isolian camp and in his nightmares for years to come.

  33: The Northern Son

  Blume didn’t mind being led down a dark hallway at spear point. It wasn’t something she was unfamiliar with. What bothered her was how much of her own energy she had spent in lifting up those bowls and plates to prove that they were who they said they were. The food and rest had done her a great deal of good, but using that simple spell had drained her greatly. She stumbled forward, causing their guard to poke her with the butt of his spear.

  “On your feet, girl,” he said, giving her a slight nudge with his weapon. She wondered what he would do with that spear if he knew she was a magic user.

  Pushing the thought from her mind, she marched down the hall with the rest.

  The prince must have been expecting them. He had sent no fewer than two dozen guards to collect their group. They had taken the few weapons they had not left on the cart away before escorting them to a room Miss Rivius called the main parlor.

  Blume couldn’t discern what was going on inside the mind of Miss Rivius. Whether she was surprised, afraid, or triumphant that she had aided in the capture of wanted criminals, she couldn’t tell. Whatever the case, Blume was feeling a resentment towards her she wasn’t sure the old woman deserved.

  Yet.

  Ladis guards stood at attention at the large double doors they were escorted through. They stood grim faced and determined as the companions were brought through the door. Blume couldn’t see over the bodies of the rest of the group, but from what she could see there were several men standing around two high back chairs placed in front of a roaring fire.

  The room was stifling hot, but Blume didn’t mind. She felt cold, a sensation that reached to her bones. She wondered if that had to do with her using magic and the ring she couldn’t remove from her finger.

  She looked down at her hand saw the soft blue glow. Knowing that might prove to be a problem with the prince, she placed her other hand over the ring and held it tight. The ring felt even colder than the rest of her. She held it even tighter as the group parted and she saw Miss Rivius move to the front of them.

  The woman curtsied and spoke with an even voice.

  “Prince Dram. It’s a joy and privilege to have you in my humble home.”

  A high, raspy voice answered from the chair. The man who spoke did not get to his feet.

  “Your home has grown substantially since I’ve last visited, Rivius. The gods have blessed your labors.”

  Blume could hear danger in the man’s voice, though he didn’t raise it. All she knew is that when he spoke, shivers went down her spine. The dread she had felt for days was growing in this room. Something was causing the high vaulted ceilings of wooden beams and great curtained windows to edge closer to her.

  She did her best to steady her breathing. Her heart pounded against her chest. Ealrin must have seen it. He reached over to her and put his arm around her. One of the guards cleared his throat but did nothing to stop Ealrin from his gesture.

  Blume took that as a good sign. She felt him give her a squeeze on her shoulder and she tried to ground herself in his touch. Taking another deep breath, it seemed the walls moved back to their original positions instead of crushing her within them.

  The man sitting in the high backed chair stood and turned to face them. Or, he would have if Blume could see his face. He wore dark clothes, boots, and gloves. There was a hood over his head and a scarf of sorts over his mouth and face. From the depths of his hood, Blume couldn’t even discern the color of his eyes, though the bright fire behind him certainly aided in this disguise.

  The only piece of discernible decoration on his person was two white circles overlapping on his breast. One was solid, while the other had several lines running through it.

  “I fear, however,” the prince said through his scarf. “That your house has been the subject of a terrible plot.”

  “Oh, has it?” Rivius asked, her voice still calm and even.

  Blume was impressed with the woman’s ability to lie through her teeth and still stay calm. She felt as if she were being examined by every guard in the room. Could they see her fear? And why was she feeling so afraid? She had certainly faced worse than this before.

  “Tonight, I was informed by a young man that several criminals from Meris had been snuck into the city. His directions led us to your house and, as it seems, right to the criminals themselves. I’m surprised you’re still alive. I hear they are very dangerous.”

  Rivius turned to face them all. Her eyes were not kind and her lips were small and thin.

  “These travelers came in with my latest shipment of goods,” she said. “I was offering them lodging for the night and then was to turn them over to you, My Prince. I’m surprised you didn’t receive my courier about the matter.”

  “Indeed I did,” Prince Dram said, holding out his hand to a robed guard. The man placed a rolled up scroll in his hand. “Unfortunately, it seems I am missing the page where the details of your visitors is declared. And if my intelligence from Meris is correct, one of these travelers may prove to be especially... dangerous.”

  The last word filled the
room in a way Blume could not describe. She barely saw Rivius bow again. The words she spoke sounded far away and muffled.

  “My deepest apologies, Lord,” she said.

  Blume felt the dread overcoming her again. She couldn’t catch her breath. Every attempt felt shallow and inadequate. The walls were closing in on her. The curtains were extending to come and choke her. The fire was reaching out tendrils of flames to envelop her.

  There was only one escape. One way out.

  “Blume?”

  Her hands flew out and she felt the power surging through her. The words were on her lips before she could stop to think about what she was doing. The bolts of energy were spreading through her fingertips and ready to blast back the walls and the fireplace.

  But then, the magic stopped.

  Blume felt a jolt strike her and she was awake. More awake and alert than she had been in weeks. She was aware of herself and her surroundings.

  And the terrible choice she had made.

  The room was a blur of chaos. Guards scrambled and her companions backed away as blasts of magical energy filled the room. At first, Blume was unable to tell where they had come from. She knew a moment of panic, thinking that her magic had gone out of her control and she was blasting her friends and companions.

  The yells of the guards and cries of her friends filled her ears and she longed to know what was happening. But she couldn’t move.

  In front of her, with one hand out with fingers outstretched and the other raised in a fist, the prince in dark clothes radiated a deep purple hue. From his fist, a dark pulsing energy came slithering through the air. Blume could feel it. Did he have a Rimstone clutched in his hand?

  She couldn’t tell, but she also struggled to move her body. It was like she was bound in place by ropes she couldn’t see. She pulled at both arms, but they refused to move.

  Then she felt her hand grow hot as her ring vibrated and shown with a blue spark.

  “Ah ha,” the man said. His voice was still muffled, but Blume could feel every word spoken as if it were in her ear. “This is the Speaker I was warned about. I was told she was young, but this...”