Ancient Magic

by Blink, Bob

  The pollen was taken from a rare bush that was difficult to find. Outbreaks of the plant were located from time to time, usually far away from populated areas, since it was looked upon as a weed and vigorously stripped from cultivated lands while it was a seedling. It was actually a beautiful plant, with flowers that seemed to glow in low light. They actually twinkled. The Duke had seen them, but knowing the deadly nature of the plant had kept his distance. The only reason such an attractive flower had not become sought for its beauty was the foul smell and poisonous nature of the sting from its thorns. A sting that penetrated the flesh would result in serious infection that took a victim many weeks to recover from. The poison used on the arrows was made from a distillation of this same venom.

  When the Duke had learned of the King’s plans to wed his daughter to the eldest son of Kellmore he had at first been concerned. He had toyed with the idea of revealing that the man chosen was mentally damaged, but then had reconsidered. One of the concerns that was currently developing involved Lopal and the intelligence that the country appeared to be considering the very actions the Duke had been trying to fake. Lopal might actually be considering war. Whether the actions by Lopal were being triggered by his own faked attacks, or whether the planning was something entirely independent, the Duke didn’t know. It was coming at a very bad time however. If Lopal were to attack, his lands were closest to the border and he would be the first to encounter the attackers. Having Kellmore aligned with Branid would definitely be a deterrent that Lopal would have to consider. Therefore, he decided to let the marriage go ahead. While women couldn’t inherit the Throne in either country, more than once in the past they had ruled from behind their weaker spouse. If Mydra, the King’s eldest daughter were to marry Awll and move to Kellmore, she would be out of sight, and might actually be of use to him. As for the youngest daughter, he wasn’t certain yet, but it would probably be best if she were to contract the disease from her father. She had shown herself to be unmanageable and Cordale didn’t want to be bothered with whatever trouble she might be. It would also be important that people were concerned the illness might be spreading, and making her one of the victims would be reasonable and clear out a potential problem.

  Yes, everything was falling into place. If it weren’t for the disturbing intelligence that Roit was getting from his mercenary teams, all would look promising. He’d have to move carefully. It wouldn’t be good to be in the middle of a transition, with the King dead and his son exposed as the killer of his brother at a time when Lopal attacked. The distraction could cost them the war.

  The Duke wasn’t sure how well they could stand up to Lopal under the best of circumstances. He wouldn’t want to be King and have to pursue that war. Clearly he needed to know more and soon. He’d have to talk to Roit later. Risos! He hated being dependent on someone, but the man had skills and contacts that were essential to his plans.

  Chapter 20

  After leaving Duke Cordale, Roit moved purposefully down the dark stone hallway toward the north quadrant of the stronghold. He nodded toward the two men who were on watch at the end of the hallway. They were his, as security for the Duke was his primary responsibility. Not far away the normal troops were garrisoned and could be called upon with very little notice if a threat were to arise. He passed by the men and turned down the adjacent corridor that was even darker than the main hallway he had just left. This one had only a few small ventilation holes high in the walls to let in light. None of the torch holders were filled. It made sense. This area had been all but unused until he’d made it his personal area. The dark didn’t bother him and it made others uncomfortable, something he felt wasn’t a bad thing.

  His boots echoed off the stone as he continued down the dusty corridor. At the far end he stepped through a narrow stone doorway and started up the very steep narrow steps that wound around the inside of the tower. There were sixty-two of the steps. Two tall stories worth. The walls were close with only a single small window that he could have peered through to observe the surrounding area. There was no need. He’d seen the view and knew what was out there. Besides, there was far more to see at the top. He continued climbing without slowing his pace, ending his climb at the top where he had to stop and unlock the sturdy door with the key he carried in his pouch along with his coin. Pushing open the door he emerged into the medium sized room where he lived. There was a narrow bed along the far wall with a small wooden stand located along side it. In one corner of the room stood a wooden wardrobe where he kept his clothes. The largest item in the room was a rectangular table where he sometimes took his meals and where he did most of his planning. Several scrolls lay on the table and he had a small stack of parchment where he could make notes or scratch out formal orders to his men. In the corner was a large fireplace with a goodly supply of hardwood set aside. The fireplace hadn’t been used for sometime now. With spring in full bloom he didn’t feel the need for additional warmth. The sparse furniture had been brought up piecemeal to get through the narrow stairwell. The wood had also been brought up by some of the servants under his personal watch.

  The sun shone brightly through the western facing window which was open with the heavy shutters thrown wide, and the mild breeze that flowed slowly through the room carried the scent of fresh flowers. He walked to the window and stared out across the stronghold and the village beyond. From this height he could see a long way, easily to the fields beyond the small town. From the other window he could see into the forest and had a marvelous view of the mountains to the east.

  “Curse Risos!” he muttered angrily.

  Roit knew that the Duke was disappointed in him for failing to find the assassin. He was angry with himself. He’d underestimated the woman. She was better than he expected. Better than anyone he’d seen before. So quick. He was certain the assassin was female, even though he would have been pressed to give hard evidence to support his belief. He’d overseen the preparations to trap and kill the assassin after the contract to kill the Count was executed. The killing of the assassin would have made it appear that the Duke’s forces were responsive. While too late to save the Count, they would have been praised for taking down the killer. Now, with the assassin having escaped they had to face the criticism of failing to protect the nobles and live with the uncertainty as to whether the assassin still lived. If she did, the Duke had reason to be concerned.

  He’d personally seen the archer release the poisoned shaft and was certain that it had struck a glancing blow. Enough to introduce the deadly poison? Even a small cut, anything that broke the skin was supposed to be enough. If so, why hadn’t they been able to find the accursed woman? There had been blood on the saddle of the horse they had found that further supported his certainty. But of her there was no sign. She must have supporters nearby who aided in her escape and were hiding her or her body. He toyed with the idea of an all out search. He didn’t need to justify his actions to the people after all, but something told him it would be a waste of time.

  Disgusted with the developments, he walked across the room and pushed open the door that lead out onto the terrace outside. Normally he loved to come out here in the open so high above everyone else. Only the tower at the opposite end of the fortress was as high, and no one used that. The Duke’s wife had used it as her own private space before she’d died, and even had a small garden on the terrace across there. Now, the area was sealed away forgotten. Even the Duke didn’t venture up there any longer.

  Roit went and checked the cages. The message birds were his primary means of staying on contact with scouts and spies at the far reaches of the Duke’s lands. His messengers also included humans who came via horseback, but it could take several weeks for them to arrive if they started from one of the remote corners. He found two birds with the small messages wrapped around their legs and carefully removed the vital information. He returned to the table inside and slowly opened each and read what had been sent.

  No sign had been found of the two young men
who had killed the four guardsmen before disappearing along the river. His scout was of the opinion they had crossed over into Lopal after realizing they were being sought along the river. Roit wasn’t surprised. It was the likely move and what he would have done himself. Had he been there, he would have crossed over and searched for them, but his men weren’t as daring as himself and the Duke didn’t want to create any incidents. The situation with Lopal was fragile enough, and while the Duke wanted to create the impression of possible war with Lopal, he didn’t wish it along his own border.

  He might not have a choice, Roit realized as he read the second message. This one was from farther away, to the northern territories of Branid. His mercenaries there had confirmed that one of the Lopal Kings had been raiding across into Branid. What they had started appeared to be happening for real. The message also indicated that the success of the raids had encouraged others from Lopal to follow suit. The raids were starting to spread southward and it was likely only a matter of time before the northern extent of the Duke’s lands might be affected.

  Roit scratched at the stubble of his beard. It had been almost a week since he’d scrapped away the growth and it was about time to do so once again. He wondered what was the best course for himself. War was coming, of that he was certain. He could feel it in his bones. What would the war mean to him? If Lopal were to unite under the leadership of their King and attack along the full extent of the border, then the Duke and his forces would be engaged in a battle Roit didn’t think they could win.

  He had reason for his opinion. Unknown to anyone, especially the Duke, Roit had been born and raised in Lopal and knew of the strengths of the country. He’d done well, he felt, for the bastard son of a drunken whore who didn’t have the slightest idea who his father had been. Born in one of the small towns along the Great Central River, his mother had kept him around as a child to run errands for her. When he’d become a teenager and refused to do her bidding, she’d thrown him out. He’d survived on the streets, learning the hard way what happened to the weak. When he was twenty he’d crossed over to Kellmore where he spent several years as a mercenary, traveling north to Branid later when the need for his kind of skills shifted that way. The encounter with the Duke had been accidental, but the Lord had recognized Roit’s potential immediately and brought him on board. Within two years Roit had become the Duke’s lead man.

  If fighting broke out he knew where his loyalties would lie. The same place as always, with himself. Lopal had done nothing for him, and he doubted he would be willing to let himself be killed defending the Duke. Uneven skirmishes with troublemakers and directing other men into battle was one thing, but an all out war with the randomness and risks that involved was not something he considered a reasonable bet. That attitude showed how much he had changed. Before he hadn’t been so discriminating. Now, however, he had put away a goodly sum of gold, more than even the Duke might suspect. He intended to live to enjoy it. He would like to stay with the Duke, but not if it meant getting killed. If the Duke’s plans succeeded Roit stood to profit handsomely. He would be the Duke’s right hand, and as the right hand of the King the wealth he could expect to amass would be beyond anything he could have dreamed of a few years earlier.

  There was little to decide at the moment. It was too soon, but he’d know before the rest if the border had been breached and had made a few subtle preparations if he should need to flee. He would head west, traveling all the way to the coast where he would hope to wait out the war. Lopal would not press to take all of Branid and Kellmore. They didn’t have the ability to do so, so he would be safe there.

  Roit set the note down and trapped it under a heavy mug. He would have to tell the Duke, but he’d wait until later. He wasn’t eager to face the man again at the moment. His eyes fell on the broken bow the archer had given him. Slowly Roit reached out and picked up the wooden shaft. He ran his fingers along the powdery wood as he’d done a number of times before.

  “What could have caused this?” he wondered aloud. He set the bow down and picked up the section of the dungeon door that still held the heavy lock. The wood was the same. Soft and powdery. He had examined the wood closely. There was no sign of termites or anything else that could have weakened the aged oak. The problem also did not extend very far from the lock. The pattern of softened wood followed the outline of the metal almost exactly. Something was at work here he didn’t understand. He decided he would take the damaged wood to the old woman. She might have seen something like this before. She was a mystery herself. Roit had known one like her before, on the docks in Lopal as a child. The old woman there had been said to be over a hundred years old and knew things that were unknown to everyone else. He didn’t believe all of the stories, but that old woman had eyes like this one, young knowing eyes that peered out of an ancient body.

  Roit knew the Duke wondered if his daughter had anything to do with the escape. Roit knew better. Eessa had been totally unconcerned about the fate of the young fighter. He knew this because he had been with her, sharing her bed the very night the breakout had taken place. It was a foolish action on his part, knowing how the Duke would react if he knew. But Roit was the one the Duke charged with monitoring Eessa’s affairs, so the chances of being discovered were almost nonexistent. Try as he might, he hadn’t been able to resist the infrequent summons from the young vixen when they came. After the escape he had wondered if the timing of her summons might be more than coincidence, but then he recalled the shocked look in her eyes when she learned of the getaway. Roit was certain she couldn’t have faked that. Nor could she fake the excitement with which she had been looking forward to the hanging. The idea that a man would be executed for being with her was something she found stimulating.

  If the two escapees had help, it wasn’t her. From the questions asked of the guards, Roit didn’t really believe anyone else was involved. That brought him full circle back to how it could have been done.

  He shook his head and pushed away from the table. He looked at the bow and decided he best go and have the archer turned over to the inquisitor. It was a waste of a good man, a man who might be needed before much longer, but he also knew that it wouldn’t be prudent to fail to follow up on a direct command from the Duke. It was unfortunate for the young guardsman, but he wasn’t about to let a little thing like that affect his own situation.

  As he started for the stairs, he couldn’t help but wonder if the message was correct and the two men had ventured into Lopal. If so, what might they know of the plans for war.

  Chapter 21

  Lor’et I’Vorris, Lamane, Master of the Land, King over all lesser kings of Lopal, listened with his full attention to the old woman who wore a long dress formed from specially prepared skins sewn together. He’d never known her to wear anything else. In fact, the dress she currently wore had changed so little in style and appearance it could have been the same one he first saw her wearing when she had appeared in his father’s camp more than three decades ago. Deep lines were etched into the ancient leathery skin. Only the eyes remained young, and they were alive with inner purpose and untold secrets. Her scraggily hair had faded from the bright white blond of her youth and was tinged with a faint purple that his father had told him indicated she was a seer of great power. Her abilities as a seer had been proven time and time again over the years. Only a fool would fail to heed her words.

  She was a witch, or at least that was what she had told him. He believed her, although he wasn’t entirely sure exactly what constituted a witch. Sometimes she could tell him if an action was advisable or not, although in those cases she usually could not tell him why. In other cases she could explain why something was important, but not tell him what the outcome of various choices might be. In either case, she had always been proven correct in her guidance. Further, years before, shortly after she had wandered into the camp while his father still was King, she had saved him with a potion from an illness than none had ever survived before him. At the time she had s
aid her presence was important for Lopal, but had never explained exactly who she was or where she had come from. At the time she had looked much as she did today. If she had aged, he couldn’t see signs of it. Her name was Sooor.

  “You agree that the tribal leaders are on a path to war,” I’Vorris said as he paced back and forth in front of the witch. “You claim that such a war is inevitable and that we would win, yet you advise against pursuing it. Why? Too many have already started making raids and to oppose the others could well see my leadership overthrown.”

  I’Vorris was aware of what some of the lesser kings had been up to. He had spies throughout the land. How else would one be able to retain power over such a fiercely independent people. He rubbed the stubs of the two missing fingers of his left hand as he thought. He’d always been a survivor. His father had taught him well. More than once he had killed without warning when one of the lesser kings who had thought their plans to overthrow his rule had gone undetected. I’Vorris would kill the offender himself or have it done if that was more expedient.

  He had his own doubts about a war with his neighbors. Long had he been aware of the current advantage Lopal held in terms of manpower and strength. He agreed with the lesser kings that taking vast sections of the neighboring countries could be done relatively easily. But then what? Even Lopal didn’t have the manpower to take, and more importantly, hold all the land to the Great Sea. Taking a section of the country would mean either killing the current residents or driving them away to join their countrymen in what remained of their land. While Lopal could gain valuable properties, they would also gain a lasting enemy that would harass and snipe at them for the foreseeable future. Unlike the current borders with natural boundaries with its protective mountain ranges, they would be left guarding an artificial and open border. It was not a sound approach.