Intimations of Evil (Warriors of Vhast Book 1)

by Cary J Lenehan

  I must have paid far too much, Theodora thought, as the shopkeeper effusively ushered them out into the street conveying sincere wishes that they visit him again some time.

  ~~~

  Except for the quality of the food, which varied greatly depending on the skills of the post’s cook, the next few days went similarly. Theodora was beginning to get bored. She would get a little excited when a caravan or a small group of travellers was coming the other way. Only once did a military courier, one of the Oxys Dromos, appear from the mirage behind. He was riding at a much faster pace than they were, and ignored them totally as they had already stepped off the road to allow him to overtake them. It was not long before he had disappeared into the heat haze ahead.

  In their breaks Theodora discovered that she was a much better chess player than Basil but still got a little confused over draughts. She had never played it before. At least, over the days, Basil got better at beating out simple rhythms for her.

  After lunch on the fifth day they saw ahead the vast plateau on which stood Deathguard Tower, holding its vigil over the ancient barrows that dated from a time before the founding of Darkreach. About the same time Basil discovered that their packhorse had developed a loose shoe and a stone had lodged inside it, threatening to lame the horse.

  “I am sorry, Milady,” he said apologetically. “I swear I checked them this morning and there was naught wrong with them then.” His voice had more than a touch of chagrin in it when he continued. “We cannot risk laming the beast so we will have to travel very slowly. This gives us a choice of what to do next. Should we camp now and go on tomorrow, or do we go on further today and reach Deathguard well after dark? They don’t always let people in after dark. We may end up camping anyway, and in the dark.”

  Theodora thought about this. The place had a foul reputation, but the Granther was supposed to have the unquiet dead under control with strong barriers placed around the barrows. Either course should be safe, but she was filled with unease over the choice. She wished she had some skill at foretelling but, lacking that option, tossed a mental coin and decided to camp now, while the nearest barrow should be over an hour’s travel distant and it was still daylight.

  To Theodora’s relief Basil was capable of making a camp out of very little. The magical item in his pouch turned out to be just a firelighter and they soon had a fire going. The sweet smell of burning dung, mixed with herbal fragrances of the dried shrubs, smells that teased at the nose, rose into the air. He used the fire to make kaf while he boiled some rice and, in another pot, some dried things taken from the horse packs. He stirred these into the rice and handed Theodora a bowl and spoon where she was seated on a saddle before serving himself and moving to sit a little way away.

  “Why are you sitting over there?” she asked.

  “I am your servant, Milady. It may be suitable for a roadside stop to sit beside you briefly, but it is not right that I should eat a proper meal with you,” was his fairly prim reply.

  “I suspect that we are going to be together for quite a while, and a lot of that time we will not be in towns. You cannot treat me as if this were a one-night hunting party.”

  He moved to sit opposite her on the ground. She noticed his eyes were still not watching her, but were scanning the plain that stretched towards Deathguard and the hill. “You look as if you are expecting trouble,” said Theodora.

  “I do, Milady…always.” As he spoke his eyes did not stop looking further afield.

  “Does that mean that I should be looking as well?” asked Theodora innocently although she was surprised by the reply he had given. They were still deep inside the Empire, not out among the lawless wildings. It was supposed to be safe in the Empire. She had not seen the faintest risk of trouble at any time in her life or indeed had scarce heard of any.

  “Yes, Milady. We are far from the city or any other help. Wild beasts prowl out here, and even occasionally criminals. Think about where we are. The dwellers in the barrows have broken loose many times before. I am your servant, so it is part of my duty to keep you safe. It makes my job much easier if you are also alert for danger.”

  “So you think that we might be attacked tonight?” asked Theodora.

  “It is always possible, Milady,” said Basil diplomatically as he rose and took her empty bowl. “Would you care for some more kaf before I put out the fire?”

  “Why put out the fire? I thought that you would build it up. Don’t we need its light?”

  With a stifled and patient sigh Basil began to explain. “It is about to get dark and a fire will make it hard for us to see any distance at all beyond its circle. We are not a large and strong force and so our best defence is simply not to be noticed.” He began laying out her sleeping roll.

  “In that case, I also have preparations.” Theodora went over to her gear and pulled out her rolled up magical diagram and unrolled it on the flat ground near her where her bedroll was. From the corner of her eye she noticed that Basil scarcely glanced at it. Unflappable, he was looking to be the perfect servant. Maybe she should tell him who she really was. No, she would not do that until they had left Mouthguard behind and he could not back out. Still, there was something she could do to bind him closer to her. “I think that you should call me by my name, Salimah, at least when we are alone,” she said.

  “As Milady wishes,” he said. After kicking dirt over the fire Basil had driven two stakes hard into the ground behind them and away from the plateau, which he joined by a piece of rope. Now he was watering the horses and tying them with lead ropes to the rope on the ground.

  Theodora corrected him. “Salimah,” she said.

  ~~~

  “Yes, Salimah,” said Basil. After the camp was ready for the night, and before she suggested it, he softly practiced for a while on his tambour until darkness started to fall.

  “Salimah, I suggest that you should get some sleep.”

  “What are you going to do?” she asked.

  “I will be watching.”

  “But shouldn’t you get some sleep?”

  “Tomorrow will be a short day. Once we reach Deathguard I can catch up.”

  She nodded and removed her armour, leaving it in a heap. It was so obvious from the unconscious way she did this that she was accustomed to servants doing everything for her. She took her boots off but kept her clothing on and curled up under her blankets. Basil sighed and picked up her armour, dusting it down as much as he could in the dark, and neatly stacked it near her head.

  ~~~

  Theodora dreamt that she was running, running hard. She wasn’t sure what from, but she had to run. All of a sudden the earth shook and someone called out. Not to her, but to someone called Salimah. But she was Salimah as well. She was in danger. She woke up grabbing her dagger from under the saddlebag she was using as a pillow. Basil was shaking her foot. Why her foot?

  “What is going on?”

  He said they were being attacked. She said his name. They were being attacked? Who would attack them? She was a princess. She felt confused. Still struggling with the effects of sleep Theodora reached again under the saddlebag and grasped two wands before leaping to her feet and grabbing her weapons belt from where it lay beside her with her small shield hanging off it. She struggled into this, trying to come alert before running to her casting pattern. A stab of pain ran through her foot as she trod on something. “Damnation,” she said as she tried to ignore it.

  It was only when she stood in the centre of the rug, hoping that she wasn’t getting blood on the pattern of the rug that she really looked ahead. There stood Basil looking quite small between her and some approaching riders. It seemed he thought them to be a threat. He was a servant and probably couldn’t take them on alone. She thought about what they had been told in class, then pointed a wand and began to cast from it, aiming at the lead mount first. She kept up the casting until one went down and then another. She threw aside the first wand. It was empty and she continued casting using the other.


  She suddenly realised what was coming at them. They were not just bandits of some sort, they were undead, probably Wights from the barrows. Again she felt confusion. The Granther was supposed to have them all safely contained. What if he had found out about her leaving and disapproved so much that he had sent them to stop her? Another mount fell. The mounts were undead as well. Keep casting. No, he could have just as easily sent soldiers or even had those in one of the posts attend to her. She had not seen any signs that he had noticed or had her followed, and she had been watching for them.

  A fourth mount fell, and then the fifth. Its rider was just in front of Basil who continued standing there, placing himself between her and five Wights. She couldn’t hit the last two riders to lose their mounts; they were too close in line with Basil, so she aimed at the third. It fell as the second wand became exhausted. Now she had to cast her own spells. She summoned the phrases of a more powerful bolt than she was able to put into a wand.

  Concentrate. She wished that she had time to grab items from her saddlebag to aid her. She must sleep with her spell adder in future. Its mystic combinations of metal, number, gem and shape aided her casting. Don’t think, focus and concentrate. Let go. The fourth Wight fell. The same spell again. If the Granther had not released the Wights, then someone else must have. His wards would not have failed accidentally and he would not have forgotten to renew them. Concentrate. Repeat the phrases. Summon the mana. Let go. The fifth Wight staggered, but did not fall. She had reached the limit of her mana. Did she dare risk going over her limit to hit it again? No. It was too risky. Failure would mean that she could be unable to defend herself. How about getting another wand out of her pack? No, there was no time.

  Basil had disposed of one of his opponents, but was hard pressed by the second. If the fifth attacked while he was occupied, and he currently had his back to it, he would die. No, she had to use her weapons. She unhooked her buckler from her belt, glad now that she had bargained for it, and ran forward to be beside Basil. Under foot was dry dirt and grass. She felt dust and sand, but no more stabbing pain. So occupied was Basil that she was sure he didn’t notice her.

  Now she saw why he was so hard-pressed. Except for a few arena games fighting to first blood, she had never had to fight seriously. It had all been for fun. Now she was fighting for her life. Her opponent had a sword in one hand, one that looked dangerously unmarked by age, but its other hand was empty. She had to avoid that one. The sword could probably only cut or pierce. Sword clashed with sword as she tried to fend off the hand with her buckler held out in front. She wished that she had more practice. The Wight closed on her and was inside her shield. She felt its bony hand briefly touching her neck and a coldness spread through her.

  Its eyes briefly glowed more strongly in an intense coldness. She felt weaker. Hurriedly she backed up. It followed even faster, dropping its sword, eager to grapple her to steal more of her life to add to its own. She tripped over something on the ground and fell on her back. It was following her so fast that it fell too. Theodora flung up her arms instinctively to ward it off, but it landed on top, driving her arms down. She struggled to get clear, expecting to die from its cold touch, but discovered that she felt nothing except its bones, the rotting cloth and dried out parchment skin. She rolled free, sneezing from the dusty mould that now covered her, grabbing for her sword. The Wight was impaled on it. When she threw up her arm she had pierced its body. Already weakened by her last air bolt, it had died, or died again, or was unmade at least by this last wound. She shuddered. That had been far too close.

  She looked up to see Basil still fighting a nearly armless opponent. He seemed to have been chopping bits off it so it was harder and harder for the Wight to touch him. It was now defending only—hard to do when you only had stumps for arms—and attempting to avoid the whirl of his two short blades. It closed on him to be met by the classic shortsword stroke coming up from below the waist to where its stomach should be and continuing to entering the chest. On a person the blow ended in their heart. On the Wight the blow just ended its existence. It folded up and collapsed in a pile of disconnected bones at his feet.

  ~~~

  Basil quickly moved to calm the horses, which were at most twenty paces from the last fight and had almost pulled their pickets loose. He then sat her down and bandaged her foot where she had trodden on a sharp rock, using one of his healing salves while he did so.

  It was unusual, she thought, to actually have to do this for real as, under direction, she bandaged the cuts he had received from his first opponent.

  “You must go back to sleep now, Milady,” he said. “You have used all of your mana and will have no more until you are rested and we do not know what will happen tomorrow. As well you admit that one touched you and removed some of your life force.” He shuddered as he said this. “That, in itself, will weaken you.”

  Theodora was glad to comply. She was shaking as the exhilaration of combat wore off. It took her a little while to calm and get back to sleep. She doubted that she would. Sex would have been a good release. As it was there were pebbles on the ground under her and they dug into her, however she moved around.

  ~~~

  She woke up to the smell of kaf and discovered that a small mug of the hot sweet brew was beside her head. This time her sleep had been undisturbed by dreams. Basil hurried over and started fussing as if she were an aged relative. She bade him leave her alone and he returned to his relit fire to heat a pan and pour something into it. She had just finished the kaf and her eyes had started to focus properly when Basil came back with an omelette and an ibrik with more, sweet kaf in it. As she breakfasted Basil saddled the horses. Theodora started to don her shoes and then her armour to discover that a solicitous Basil was helping her as if she were an aged aunt who had had an accident. One look at him, with the dust of the plain all over him and tousled hair after his fight and a sleepless night and she was thinking that she should be helping him—although she was not sure how.

  While Basil was checking the horses Theodora went to examine the bodies of the Wights. She put some bones in one of her endless supply of small pouches, in case she needed them for a spell, and was about to turn away when the sword of Basil’s first opponent caught her attention. It fairly glowed in her senses, its inherent magic impinging strongly on her consciousness. Picking it up and looking at it she could see that it had a pommel shaped in a fashion that she had not seen before. The flat base had five lobes rising from it. Even she could see that the weapon was well made and still new-looking after perhaps an age in the grave. Looking at the blade she could see that words of some sort were inlaid into the steel in gold or bronze. Holding it up to catch the light it was in the script used by the Dwarves and the Greydkharl, the rarely seen underground working Kharl. She could speak and read all of the Darkreach tongues, and some others, but this one was a mystery. Dwarven was similar to Greydkharl in some of its words, so it was unlikely to be that. The individual letters made sense, but what they spelt did not. She decided to put it in a horse pack until she had time to work out what it had.

  They started off, travelling slowly so as to not fully cast the loose shoe. The packhorse’s foot seemed better after the rest, but Basil insisted on stopping frequently to make sure no more stones became lodged under the shoe. As the sun rose and the day warmed some little dust devils swirled around nearby in temporary funnels. Even with the halts they were circling around the plateau towards Deathguard before noon. Soon they were climbing up the slopes towards the grim rectangle of the tower. The temperature was rising as they climbed. Fine dust eddied around them and tickled their noses.

  To their right in the north and west they could see the expanse of the Great Bitter Lake. Unlike a normal lake, it was a body of water that was far saltier than the ocean itself. Nothing could drink of its waters and supposedly a man could float on top of it with no effort. To the south lay the dry rolling grasses that covered the top of the plateau and, dotted over it, c
ould be seen the barrows that held captive the unquiet dead of past millennia. Unlike any other garrison town in Darkreach there was little in the way of a civilian presence at the tower. They had passed only a few fields of vegetables, and a little grain, on their way up the slope and the few animals kept by shepherds looked to be brought inside the tower at night along with any passing caravans. The grim keep, itself a long rectangle known to have the tallest walls in the Empire, had only two functions; to house the garrison tasked to watch the undead and try to control them if they escaped or to at least give warning if they did so in too large a numbers to be held.

  ~~~

  Upon arriving at the keep they split up. While Basil headed off with the horses, Theodora took herself off to pay her respects to the duty officer. She had decided that she needed to tell what had happened to them to the garrison. The soldiers stationed here had to find out how the Wights had escaped their confinement, or been released. They also needed to send out a patrol to gather the remains and take them back to their barrows to re-inter them. Once a body had been raised, it became easier and easier to do so and, allowing the bones to sit in the open was an invitation to the malicious—and this would not be good.

  Her news threw the garrison into turmoil and the duty officer sent a runner to fetch the castle’s captain to the room.

  ~~~

  Theodora was in the cool duty office talking to several officers when Basil returned and drew her aside.

  “Someone sabotaged the horseshoe,” he said. “Remember that I said that checked them and they were fine? Well, they did not break; they did not lose their head. Somehow someone removed the whole nail, even the part that is bent over through the hoof. Could magic do that?”