by Wacht, Peter
“Neither are you,” replied Thomas, unable to keep the barbed comment to himself.
Maddan smirked, and Eshel clearly took offense, his face turning a bright red. The Lord of Inishmore was not used to such impertinence. But he remained where he was. Apparently, he, like Maddan, was unwilling to take any chances by moving closer.
“I just don’t understand it. Lord of the Highlands, you may be. But why are you so important? What hold do you have on the Princess Corelia?”
“I doubt that anyone has a hold on Corelia,” Thomas replied.
“Don’t be so sure of that, boy,” said Eshel, continuing his assessment of the Highland Lord and confirming for himself that there was nothing remarkable about him. “Don’t be so sure.”
“We should just kill him now,” suggested Maddan. “Be done with it. There’s nothing that he can do for Corelia that I can’t.”
Eshel took a moment to consider the suggestion, unable to hold back a snort of laughter. “I find that highly unlikely,” chuckled Eshel. He turned his gaze to the Highland Lord. “The Shadow Lord wants you dead. The boy hiding behind me speaks true about that. So perhaps we should, Corelia be damned. We could gain much by doing so.”
“Your own deaths included,” said a raspy voice. A black shadow emerged from the balcony to darken the room. Both Eshel and Maddan took several steps backward, closer to the door. Thomas stood his ground. “The Highland Lord is to remain alive … for now.”
“But Malachias, would it not be better just to …”
“You forget yourself, Eshel,” said Malachias, who tugged the cowl from his bald pate, his black eyes hypnotic in their glow. “I serve at the right hand of our master. And as I said, the boy is to remain alive. For now.”
“I understand, Malachias,” said Eshel. “All I hope to do is humbly serve. I just think that …”
Malachias stepped forward faster than a striking snake, his bony, clawlike hand taking hold of Eshel’s throat and squeezing tightly. The fat lord gasped for breath. Maddan had pulled the hilt of his sword partway free from its scabbard, but he quickly slammed it back down when Malachias brought his deadening stare to bear on him.
“That was your first mistake, Eshel. You are not to think. You are simply to do. Do you understand?”
Eshel had reached up with both hands for Malachias’ clawlike fingers, trying to dislodge them, desperate for air, but failing miserably to remove even a single digit. Unable to speak, he could only nod.
“Good. Now leave us. And stay clear of this room. If either of you are found here again, you will pay a price that may be too steep even for the likes of you.”
Malachias released Eshel, pushing him away. Eshel would have tumbled to the granite floor if not for Maddan, who had no choice but to try to catch him otherwise he, too, would have collapsed in a jumble. Despite Eshel’s substantial bulk, Maddan succeeded in keeping him upright, if just barely. Before Eshel could say anything else that might offend Malachias, Maddan pulled him from the room and slammed the door behind them, glad to be free of two individuals who terrified him.
The Shadow Lord’s servant shifted his unsettling gaze onto Thomas, studying him like he was no more than a tool to be used.
“You resemble your grandmother.” Malachias waited a moment to see if his words would lead to a reaction, but the boy’s face remained a mask, his body motionless. “She is well, I take it? When last we met, it was not under the best of circumstances.”
The Shadow Lord’s servant became quiet, his thoughts apparently having drifted elsewhere. Thomas continued to assess his adversary, already knowing the long history between Malachias and Rya Keldragan and wondering how he could make use of it, but Malachias returned to the present before any ideas came to him.
“You have a knack for causing problems, boy.”
“So I’ve been told.” Thomas had concluded through his brief study of the wizened creature standing before him that there was a power to the man, if man he still was after serving the Shadow Lord for so long, that could not be denied. But there was a corruption, as well, that had burrowed into his very soul. What appeared to Thomas to be a wasting away. What that could mean, he didn’t know. But it suggested a weakness, and that was something that he could employ in the future, if he was still alive to do so.
“A smart mouth won’t help you here, boy.”
Thomas ignored the comment, seeking to better understand the situation in which he found himself. “Why not get rid of me now? I can’t touch the Talent, do anything with it. If I had my sword at hand, I probably couldn’t use it against you.” He raised his right hand and brushed his fingers across the shiny black onyx encircling his neck to drive home the point. “Your master does want me dead. He’s tried often enough to make it so. Right now, I’m an easy kill.”
“Yes, and with that collar you will remain so,” replied Malachias in a scratchy chuckle. “There is no need to rush. If you must be eliminated, then what will be, will be. But if you prove useful, perhaps my master can be persuaded to employ you for his own purposes.”
“You’re pulling at straws, Malachias. You and Corelia both.”
“Maybe. But then again, perhaps the risk is worth it. Whoever controls the collar, controls you. Controls what you can do.”
Thomas stared at Malachias for almost a minute, the pieces finally coming into place. “You think that I can help you supplant your master,” he said scornfully.
Malachias cackled, clapping his hands together contemptuously. “Why not? I have served the Shadow Lord for more than a millennium. I may not be as strong as my master, but I am not weaker than him by much. Not after all the centuries I have had to learn the Dark Magic that he gifted me. I am not fool enough to do anything drastic, but if the opportunity presents itself, I’d be a fool not to be ready. If you were to …”
The servant of the Shadow Lord left the remainder of his statement unsaid, knowing that the boy standing before him could complete it for him.
“If I were to defeat the Shadow Lord, then you can assume his place.” Thomas shook his head in wonder at the arrogance of such a thought. “You realize, of course, that Corelia would still have control over me. If I can defeat the Shadow Lord, I can defeat you. Corelia will think of that faster than it took Eshel to escape you just a few minutes ago. She won’t hesitate to remove any threat that could impede her from achieving her own goals.”
“I would expect as much, boy. Thus, the need for her removal at the appropriate time, and with her gone, control of the collar would pass to me, since I’m the one who gave the collar to Corelia.”
“Then I become your weapon, to do with as you will, if you don’t kill me first.”
“Well done, boy. Well done, indeed.”
“You play a risky game, Malachias. Do you chafe so under the bonds your master has placed on you?”
Malachias stared at Thomas, his black eyes seething. “I have not been given what I’ve been promised, boy. I’ve only received empty words. I can only be patient for so long. After centuries of waiting, there is no guarantee that I will receive what I am owed. So, if it comes to it, I might just have to take what is owed to me, including your grandmother.”
“My grandfather will have something to say about that.”
“I do hope so. I’ve been wanting to kill that arrogant fool since before the Great War and look forward to being the one to slide a blade between his ribs.”
Thomas’ eyes burned brightly with anger, his body taut, ready to spring at his adversary, but knowing, as well, the uselessness of such an action while wearing the collar. It took him several long moments before he regained command of the emotions that churned within him. “Kill me now, Malachias. You’re a fool to think such a plan could work.”
“It might come to that, boy. I have no qualms about killing you. It’s just a matter of when. But for now, I’ll let you live.”
With a sharp cut of his hand through the air, a swirling portal of black mist appeared before the Shadow
Lord’s servant. About to step through, he stopped, caught by Thomas’ final words.
“You speak of what you’re owed. That’s all well and good. Just remember, Malachias, that I owe you a debt. For this collar. For so much more. And Marchers always pay their debts. Always.”
16
Entrance
“I can’t believe that I let you talk me into this,” said Oso.
“Be quiet,” Kaylie whispered. “We’re almost there, and Eshel has eyes and ears everywhere.”
Through her network of spies, Colasa had learned that a young man resembling Thomas had been taken to one of Eshel’s manors on the very edge of the city. At first Kaylie worried about how to gain access to the villa situated on a walled estate and home to a full company of the Lord of Inishmore’s soldiers. Colasa offered a solution both simple and effective. Yes, Eshel’s villa was heavily guarded, but she explained that he had begun to act like a king, already playing at the role that he so desperately desired to make a reality. So every evening he welcomed visitors and other hangers-on, solidifying his alliances, searching for new ones, and seeking any advantage that he could find that would put him one step closer to the throne.
With that news, Colasa and Kaylie put together a straight-forward plan. Oso, along with Aric and a few other Marchers, would assume the role of bodyguards, exchanging their fairly well-known Highland garb for something that stood out a bit less. Assuming the role of an emissary from the east, Kaylie would visit Eshel during the evening and attempt to learn Thomas’ whereabouts and perhaps even set the stage to free him. Colasa and her soldiers would be near the manor, along with the remaining Marchers, prepared to create a distraction if one proved necessary while keeping any other visitors at bay.
Kaylie and Oso rode in an expensive carriage with no markings that Colasa had acquired, Oso dressed in unaccustomed finery that made his skin itch. The Marchers protected the carriage, their eyes wary, postures stiff, as they approached the main gate and Eshel’s soldiers. Once Oso announced who the occupant of the carriage was, however, any concerns about gaining entry to the grounds of the estate disappeared. The soldiers allowed them through with barely a glance, apparently accustomed as Colasa had said to the steady stream of visitors either seeking Eshel’s favor or Eshel seeking theirs and unconcerned that anything untoward might happen.
As the horses pulled the carriage into the courtyard at the front of the mansion, Kaylie waited impatiently, but playing her part remained in her seat until the chamberlain trotted down the manor steps to open the carriage door. The Marchers had done as instructed, staying on their mounts, acting like the bodyguards that they were supposed to be.
“My lady, a pleasure to have you join us,” said the chamberlain, a small man with wispy hair.
Kaylie ignored him, sweeping past the chamberlain as soon as he opened the door, Oso at her heels. “A pleasure indeed,” said Kaylie, striding up the steps and forcing the chamberlain to scurry after her to catch up. “But we have little time for pleasantries, my good man. Take me to Lord Eshel.”
The chamberlain ran by her down the long hall, hurrying past works of art affixed to the walls, guards posted in every doorway. The little man had every intention of reaching Eshel’s audience chamber first to announce this beautiful and determined visitor, but the effort clearly taxed him.
“You seem to have grown into your role quite easily,” whispered Oso.
“It was simple to do,” she replied quietly, ignoring the art but taking note of the guards. “I can’t tell you how many courtiers I have met in my father’s court who have acted just like this.”
“Self-important? Officious? Overall, quite annoying?”
“Yes.”
Oso chuckled. “Just don’t walk too fast. You don’t want to give that chamberlain a heart attack.”
17
Miscalculation
With a final burst of speed that appeared to take the last of his wind, the old chamberlain rushed into Lord Eshel’s receiving chamber, Oso and Kaylie right on his heels. Fearing that she might announce herself, the chamberlain gathered what breath he had left to huff out the expected introduction.
“My Lord Eshel, the Lady Lissa of Fal Carrach, emissary of the Lord Norin Dinnegan. My Lady Lissa, the Lord Eshel, rightful ruler and defender of Inishmore.”
His task done, the chamberlain backed out of the room wheezing for breath, shutting the large doors behind him.
Eshel stood in front of an ornate desk, bright moonlight streaming into the room from windows that lined the wall behind him. A library of rare books on the wall to the right, the spoils of battles past -- pennants, swords and spears -- on the facing wall, heads of beasts killed during the hunt stationed here and there about the large space. The chamber was designed to impress, to demonstrate his superiority. Eshel meant to take advantage of that, standing silently for almost a minute so that his visitors could take it all in, including himself.
Oso ignored everything around him except for the man who stood before him, assuming that Kaylie was doing the same. Oso measured the Lord of Inishmore in the space of a few seconds. His clothes were expensive, fit for a king, it would seem, but they couldn’t hide the fact that he enjoyed the comforts and benefits provided by his wealth more than he should. A bully, spoiled and pompous, based on the arrogant gleam in his eyes. Oso doubted that the man before him had opened any of the books lining the wall, and his desk was not only too clean, but it was immaculate, not a paper to be seen. So he had others rule his lands for him. Eshel had assumed the part laid out for him at his birth, the trophies likely belonging to his father or other forebears. But what did that matter if he played his role to the hilt? He was just one step away from the throne of Inishmore. He didn’t have to be a leader. He could simply pretend to be one and all the accoutrements of his rank would flow to him naturally.
Having decided that he had posed long enough, Eshel stepped forward, his swollen fingers leading the way as he ignored Oso and grasped his beautiful visitor’s hands with his own.
“My Lady Lissa, a pleasure to have you here in my Kingdom.” Kaylie couldn’t help but notice what Eshel had said, realizing that it could be taken in more than one way. Although still opposed for the throne, Eshel seemed to have assumed the mantle of power already, at least in his own mind. “A very pleasant and beautiful surprise, if I may be so bold.”
Kaylie tried to remove her hands, but Eshel’s grasp was too strong to allow for such a forced break to occur without some awkwardness.
“My Lord Eshel, a pleasure.” Kaylie beamed at him, her smile exuding all the charm that she could muster. She presented herself as a courtier, and she knew exactly what to do based on her long experience in her father’s court. How she stood, the tilt of her head, a hundred other small things designed to capture Eshel without him even realizing it. “I have heard much about you. To finally meet you in person … well, all I can say is that the stories don’t do you justice.”
Oso found it difficult to hide his smirk, lowering his eyes to the stone floor out of necessity.
“That’s very kind of you, Lady Lissa. And this gentleman?” Eshel glanced at Oso, a large presence beside the petite envoy, with some hesitation. Though dressed as a servant, he seemed anything but to Eshel, as if the clothes the hulking man wore chafed.
“Kylin, my bodyguard,” replied Kaylie with a dazzling smile. “Traveling can be dangerous at times, so better to have someone you can trust at your side.”
“Indeed,” smiled Eshel, his eyes bright. “I can only imagine the dangers that could befall one of your beauty. Rest assured that here in Inishmore you are safe with me.” His mind had already begun traveling down a path where his hopes for a closer connection to the beautiful representative who stood before him now increased by the second. Eshel finally released Kaylie’s hands, and she prevented herself from wiping the sweat from the Inishmorian Lord’s clammy palms onto her skirts, resigning herself to the discomfort with a barely concealed shudder of disgust.
“That is very kind of you, my Lord Eshel,” she said, working hard to stay on task. “I bring you greetings from Norin Dinnegan of Fal Carrach. He has watched your progress here with great interest. He is quite impressed.”
Eshel puffed up like a peacock at her words. All knew of Norin Dinnegan, richest man in all the Kingdoms. His interests were not only economic, but also political. Having the support of a man like Dinnegan could do more for him than the assistance of several of the Kingdoms surrounding Inishmore. Perhaps even help him break the stalemate with his rival for the throne as the costs of his covert battle were becoming more severe and his resources were dwindling.
“Truly? That is a pleasant surprise. Is it because I entertain his son, Maddan? Spending time with that fine young man has been a pleasure.” Eshel’s lie came out smoothly, as he hoped that the beautiful young lady who could possibly unlock additional funds to support his fight for the crown hadn’t noticed his brief delay in responding.
For a moment, Kaylie didn’t know what to say. The news surprised her. Why would Maddan be here? At first, she feared that Eshel knew the truth. She and Rya had exposed and helped to thwart Dinnegan’s plot to assassinate her father and take the Fal Carrachian throne. As a result, Dinnegan had lost most of his wealth and become a wanted man. But perhaps Maddan had not revealed that information, not wanting to embarrass himself and weaken his position with his host. And it would take quite a while for these rumors to make their way east. For Thomas’ sake she needed to carry through with her plan come what may.
“No, Lord Eshel. Though Norin certainly appreciates your generosity in that regard.”
Eshel strutted to his immaculate desk, leaning back against the edge and crossing his arms, believing that such a bearing allowed him to exude a sense of ease and power. To Kaylie, it revealed his rather large belly, which fell well over his belt.
