Strange things had happened next, including the summons to war that called all people able to bear arms to join the army, with or without training, and to march to the sound of drums to the Fields of Flora where war would be waged. After this, he had tried to find the Baron but had been unable to trace him, Greyson, or anyone he knew. What the heck?
Cail had avoided military service thanks to his catlike movements, keeping in the shadows and avoiding the light. He was emaciated with no proper food because stealing had become difficult now that the spies of evil were everywhere and you could not trust anybody. His friends had started to disappear and he did not know how or why. It was not until he thought of seeking out Fabian the Gambler that he saw three men dressed in black with only their eyes visible murdering Fabian as he betted for a three-headed snake brought from the exotic land of Grizna. That day he knew it was true: evil had taken over the city and it was now empty of soldiers, thieves, and anybody who was able to defend it. There were women, children, and old people, easy prey for those bastards who served evil.
Cail did not know what to do. He spent his time wandering about the sewers looking for easy food among the rats and garbage that he found floating and made up his daily menu. Time went by and he heard screams everywhere in the city. They must have been demons because shortly after that inhuman scream, there would come a plea for mercy followed by the sound of flesh being torn. He knew that, sooner or later, he would be found out, hunted, and tortured, and then some bastard of a demon would take out his eyes and eat his flesh.
One of those times, with only the most absolute loneliness for company, he ventured into where the Dungeon of Thieves had been. He found the place they had called home for so long completely destroyed, full of blood and filth. He remembered Turi, Greyson, Atha, Tulio, Nanolia, and so many other thieves who had disappeared because of the bastards on the evil side. At least he knew Turi was not there because he had gone to another planet in search of military support and become the betrothed of the Queen of Gardak. That was quite a prize!
The smile disappeared from the young thief’s face when a black cat sat down in front of him. The cat meowed once, turned, and left. Cail had no time to rationalize the hunch that suddenly came to him, but something urged him to follow the cat at all costs. So, he did. As if he were the cat’s cousin, he made use of his talent and with those flexible joints and strong muscles that were in total control of his weight, he managed to follow it, almost holding on to its tail.
The cat went deep into the web of tunnels under the city where the Dungeon of Thieves had flourished, passing several times behind what was certainly an evil guard. Cail knew all the tunnels since when he and Turi had been younger, they had gone exploring to find out the secrets of the sewers. But this was a new adventure. The cat seemed to take a couple of turns, and suddenly he found himself in totally unknown territory.
He was in a tunnel of stone, two strides or so in height and depth. It was lit by faint, persistently flickering torchlight. Where on earth was he? Could he be still in the sewers in such a strange place?
The black cat was waiting for him at the end of the tunnel, which opened out into what looked like a sunny day. This had to be a trap, he thought. Some kind of maneuver to catch him. But nothing happened. The cat sat on its hindquarters and waited patiently, its yellow eyes studying the young man.
“What have you got me into, you little traitor?” Cail asked the cat. The animal meowed, then came to him to be petted.
“Cail,” came a voice he had never heard before.
He stood up with a start so sudden that he stumbled and fell back onto his backside. Never had anyone approached him without his noticing. Well, Turi might have succeeded once or twice, but never a stranger who was not a thief. This man must be something more.
He got to his feet and unsheathed his dagger, then took up a defensive position.
“I think you can save that for when it’s worth the trouble,” said the man at the entrance of the tunnel. He was old with short grey hair and a well-shaven face. His blue eyes shone with the hope of tomorrow. It was a long time since Cail had seen a gaze so candid, generous, and hopeful. Who was this old man?
He noticed that the stranger was wearing a blue tunic and carrying a staff in one hand. He was not wearing a hat, but Cail knew that if he were wearing a pointed one, he would not find it surprising. This must be a mage!
“Cail. My name is Sendar. I am an ex-member of the Council of Mages, exiled by my order and accepted by the new and growing order created by Elgahar Üdessa. Welcome to Maggrath, the island of the mages.”
Cail lowered his guard at the name of Elgahar. He was a great mage who had returned from the other side of the world controlling great powers, who had inspired wonderful stories and accounts of great feats, and about whom songs and legends were sung. The youth shed a couple of tears in relief, finally releasing the pressure of the last few days.
“But how?” He turned to look at the tunnel, trying to understand how he could have traveled a hundred leagues by crossing nothing more than a couple of sewers.
“I think I mentioned that you’re on an island of mages and Maggrath is an incubator of magic where the Conjuring Art is benefiting from scientific investigation and innovation for the first time in centuries.”
“But who knew about me?”
Sendar smiled broadly. “The Baron, of course!”
Cail’s eyes brightened and he shed a tear. Who else but the Baron would be capable of such a fantastic trick?
***
“I’m a man of many resources, Cail. Among them is Sendar, a former thief from our band who many years ago, under orders from the previous Baron, managed to get into the Council of Mages. We don’t have enough muscle to lead the Council, but we do have enough to keep an ear open to sound out opportunities. When Elgahar came to me and Mérdmerén a few months ago to propose the wonderful idea of creating Maggrath, I knew it was a project that had to be got underway as soon as possible.”
Cail was surrounded by shadows, sitting at a table with a candle in front of him. He could see nothing around him as he was surrounded by a bubble of darkness, but he knew that somewhere in those shadows was the Baron.
“Maggrath is a diamond amid the keys of Muengüen. It’s a school of magic that, in the few weeks after its inauguration, managed to recruit a great many people of talent throughout all the known nations of the Meridian.
“With the principles of magic and the innovations Elgahar made, plus Sendar’s skills in teaching magic to others, the pupils have made rapid progress. Maggrath might be one of the last corners of the world with the capacity to create weapons on a grand scale to oppose the coming of evil and much of that is because the enemy knows nothing about us. This gives us a great advantage.”
The Baron gave him a detailed account of what was about to happen at the Portal of the Worlds and how Leandro the Impostor had managed to destabilize and break the Committee. He told him about the trap they were setting for the impostor, how fragile the balance of the plan was, and the fact that it might go wrong at any moment.
“Maggrath is isolated from the world and its influences. On this small island, the mages have managed to create a protective cloak that makes us invisible to magic eyes and the negative currents of the Black Arts. In other words, they won’t be able to find us easily.
“We’ve seen many orcs, demons, and even a couple of wraiths wandering about the island unsuccessfully. The sea that surrounds us helps to deter most of them. We’re safe and given that this is our base of operations from now on, you’ll be part of our growing legion of mages. I must say one thing with complete confidence: if Mórgomiel were ever to find out about us, he could crush us in seconds with the powers at his command. We hope our allies will keep him distracted so that this never happens. By the time we attack, it’ll be in a single strike; we’ll attack with everything we have.”
Cail was breathless. He had lived in his flesh and blood through the day when
Mórgomiel had come down from the sky on Háztatlon when the evil spirits had appeared in Mérdmerén’s rooms. He had seen the evil spirit Balthazar had become and because of that, he had had nightmares for weeks.
“They used me,” Cail said, unprompted. His eyes were brimming with tears and in a single moment, they trickled down his cheeks in indignation. “They used me! The shadow that supplanted you made me go for Leandro and that’s when they caught him! It’s my fault!” His eyes were on the point of bursting from their sockets, and the thief sitting in front of him representing the Baron felt uncomfortable.
“Did you recognize the entity that passed itself off as me?” the Baron asked.
Cail came back to his senses. “No, I just followed instructions.”
“I’m glad. Because I recognized it myself. It was an evil spirit with great power. We barely managed to get out of the Dungeon and only thanks to a number of your cousins and uncles. Many lives were lost the day we were infiltrated and it’s a day we’ll never forget. It’s the first time in the history of the Dungeon that we’ve been hit where it hurts most. Revenge is in order, Cail. Not only are we going to regain our Dungeon when the time comes, but we’re also going to hit those bastards who murdered our loved ones below the belt. A thief never leaves a debt unpaid and there are plenty of them for us to collect.” Cail could feel the pain and frustration in his voice and this gave him a strong feeling of camaraderie.
“And now, behold me here. Luckily, the demons thought I was dead. The mages swear that only Mórgomiel is capable of finding us which, so far, is highly unlikely. But we still need to be as discreet as we can. You’re not to leave the island under any circumstances until the time comes to attack. There’s not long to wait for that. Armageddon is coming, in case you hadn’t noticed. The forces of good and evil are beginning to clash, creating massive conflicts in the process, and the climax will come soon enough. That climax is when Maggrath will unleash its fury on the forces of evil.
“And you, Cail. In less than a week or so, you’ll be learning to use some magic. A couple of spells will help you to hide more stealthily and turn you into a murderer of murderers.”
Cail was beginning to see where this was going and smiled. “Are there any more cousins there?”
“There’s a group of about thirty cousins and uncles, and a couple of grandfathers,” the Baron said. This meant there were people of Cail’s generation, Greyson’s, and Papón’s; people of all ages.
“You’re going to create a band of murderers,” Cail said. “You’re training your thieves in basic spellcraft to raise the chances of winning when we confront the demons. I’ll be delighted to eliminate the bastards that killed my cousins!”
“Maggrath has a hundred pupils of magic,” the Baron explained. “They have different talents and ranks in the Conjuring Arts. They range from Sendar, who’s the most erudite, to the youngest and greenest, who are still learning to perceive the intrinsic energy of inanimate objects.”
“I’m more relaxed now,” Cail said with a sigh. He collapsed on to his chair, allowing all the accumulated tension to ebb from his body. “Thank you. Thank you for saving me from the grasp of those damn devils.”
“It was necessary, Cail. You’re one of the talents and you’re going to help us take back what’s ours. Debts are going to be called in. That’s a promise. So, welcome. Go and find your cousins and take a little rest because the training will start as soon as possible.”
“Yes, sir.”
Before Cail could finish saying goodbye, the black hood had already covered his head. He was led to his new room. When they took off the hood he found himself confronted with a monstrous stone-colored building that looked like a castle with all its luxuries and he was one of its guests.
One of his new roommates offered him his hand. “Welcome, cousin.”
“Gavin! Noela! Paula!” Cail cried at the sight of the cousins he had grown up beside in the Dungeon of Thieves—as well as Turi, of course.
“They’ve taken away our home, cousin,” Noela said. She was a beautiful wench of good height whom Cail had always fancied. Seeing her jet-black eyes and hair alongside her pale skin, his courage returned. The girl returned his look confidently with a similar interest. They had already shared kisses and caresses in the past and both of them held the other in high regard.
Gavin smiled. “We’re learning to manage a few spells and we’re going to use them to eliminate those sons of bitches. You’re going to like magic. The kind we learn is a bit different from the kind the mages practice, but it’s incredible!”
“Just let those bastards come and try it!” Cail shouted enthusiastically.
***
Lombardo had visited Merromer twice. The first time had been when he had celebrated his honeymoon with Ajedrea in the Muengüen Islands. The second time was now. A cryptic message from the Baron had arrived to warn him of the coming dangers and urge him to flee to the port at once.
Merromer had never been a city that impressed people. With an ancient and neglected castle and a small army made up mainly of men with rotten teeth, the city was better prepared to defend itself against a fleet than an invasion by land. The countryman found it hard to get used to the people of this seaport city since their accent was a strong one to his ear and their way of life seemed to lean toward idleness.
Ajedrea and Lombardo went around wide-eyed, not talking, and ever-alert to whatever might be happening around them. The bustle of the city during the late evening was animated; the citizens of the port were no lovers of silence and meditation. The sound of the fishermen packing after a day of trading, on top of the smells of gutted fish and the incessant croaking of gulls in search of carrion, was giving him a headache.
“Don Lombardo, we’ll leave you here,” said three of the lads who had escorted them to Merromer. “We have relatives nearby in a village near here where our family’s lived for generations. Thank you for everything, Don Lombardo. I truly wish you the best and hope your child grows up in a world at peace.”
Lombardo and his workers said goodbye with a firm handshake. The only one who stayed with them was Yuldo Goodhouse, a man who had grown up in Háztatlon in one of the less fortunate neighborhoods and had, sadly, lost his family during the battle for the city. Lombardo had listened to the horror stories Yuldo told of how his family had been torn to shreds by a band of orcs. He regretted having survived, but he knew that committing suicide would enrage the God of Light and feared that the Goddess of Night would not forgive him for giving in to despair.
Continuing his life had been hard for Yuldo, but he had found his passion in tending the coffee plantations when Lombardo had taken him on. Since then, he had proven himself to be like the uncle Lombardo had never had: a great person to trust and one who knew to give sensible advice for avoiding misfortune and unnecessary pain. Now that Ajedrea was pregnant, Yuldo was behaving in a particularly protective manner.
“We’re here,” Yuldo announced from the driver’s seat. He jumped down and opened the door of the carriage so that the passengers could depart.
Ajedrea was wearing a simple frock which left ample space for her swollen belly. She wore neither jewels, pearls, nor a stylish hat as the last thing she wanted was to attract attention. She was the princess and the Baron had assured her that the last thing she wanted was an imperial escort. If they were caught and kidnapped, they would find it easy to use her to torture Mérdmerén.
Lombardo had been forced to flee without a word to the imperial escort. He knew that the captain of the squad would be furious and he would probably lose his job. But he knew that when Mérdmerén found out they had left without an escort, he would understand why.
The young giant stepped down from the carriage with his sword and scabbard in his hands. When he was seated, he could not fasten it to his back because of its length, so he was obliged to carry it in his lap. The gigantic saber quickly caught the attention of the local thieves. At the sight of the carriage, they had already tho
ught of stealing something or other. But nobody would dare assault a soldier like him, so nobody bothered them.
“It’s this way,” Yuldo said, following the Baron’s instructions. “He said it was the most sought-after tavern in the area.”
Merromer was not particularly large and finding the docks was not difficult. With a couple of questions and a couple of crowns, Yuldo found out that the place they were looking for was called The Kraken. It was about a hundred paces away on one of the most coveted quays in Merromer.
The porter was a huge, swarthy character who kept his arms folded. “What’s the password?” he demanded.
Lombardo, unsure what he meant, turned to look one way and another. His sword did not seem to intimidate this giant. Around him, several sailors were beginning to take an interest in the soldier and his pregnant wife, particularly when it was obvious they were not from those parts.
“Do you have the Faceless Baron’s letter?” Yuldo asked.
“Here,” Lombardo said and took the letter out of a small pouch inside his armor. He read it quickly and said, “Evenings at my aunt’s never end,” and raised his eyes to see if it had worked. The big man breathed out, lowered his arms, and moved to one side of the door to let them in.
Once they were inside, the porter said, “The Baron sends his greetings and hopes you’ll enjoy your evening in The Kraken and the dinner we’ve prepared for you. Follow me, this way, for the Baron’s charges.”
Ajedrea and Lombardo looked at each other, shrugged, and followed the porter. A secret passage led them to the lower levels that were hidden to the public where they could hear children playing in a small room.
Lombardo smiled when he heard that laughter. It stirred happiness in him and gave him a strange feeling in the depths of his being. Imagining that he would be a father made him smile.
Necromancer’s Sorrow: (Series Finale) Page 40
