In an instant the room was ablaze with light. Momentarily blinded, Mikela twisted this way and that, trying to reassure herself that she was in fact alone. The problem was, that she was not alone. Two eyes blinked at her from under Heather’s bed.
Mikela gasped and just did refrain from screaming. The creature was the size of a large cat or maybe a small dog, but no dog or cat that she had ever seen had ever been so hideous.
The small, gray monster jumped from under the bed and made deep growling noises. It twisted its face side to side, showing small, wicked-looking teeth and an usually long tongue.
Ziteul was enjoying the fear he could so clearly see in the magician’s eyes. Master Flare had sent him with a message, and since the master had not given him specific instructions about how to behave, he felt free to try and scare the woman half to death before he delivered the message. He grinned at his own craftiness. He was still grinning when the first blow landed. The first blow hurt, the second blow nearly addled his brains, and by the third, the imp squealed and dove back under the empty bed.
Mikela paused, holding the wooden staff up and ready to swing again. The creature was back under Heather’s bed. She had gotten a good view of the beast, and she was quite sure that she had never seen anything like it before.
“Don’t hurt Ziteul! Don’t hurt Ziteul,” a deep raspy voice cried from under the bed.
Mikela stepped back away from the bed and looked underneath it. The gray creature was against the wall, holding its head.
Its eyes met hers, and it cried again, “Don’t hurt Ziteul!”
She nearly dropped the staff in surprise. “You can talk!” she said in astonishment.
Ziteul growled, showing its tiny, sharp teeth. “Of course I can talk. Why did you attack me?”
“Attack you?” Mikela repeated amazed. “I attacked you because I thought you were attacking me. Why did you growl and charge out from under the bed like that?”
Ziteul didn’t answer right away as he thought furiously of a reasonable lie.
“Well?” Mikela demanded.
She moved the end of the staff toward the bed, like she was going to ram it under, and Ziteul decided to talk.
“Because I wanted to scare you! The master didn’t say I couldn’t.”
“Scare me?” Mikela repeated all the more confused. “Why? And who’s your master?”
“I wanted to scare you because I hate being a wizard’s slave. I hate it! I hate it!” Ziteul paused only long enough to take a breath. “And my master’s name if Flare. He said you knew him.”
“Flare sent you?” Mikela said, and immediately the answer dawned on her. “You’re a demon. Aren’t you?”
A smile spread across Ziteul’s face; it seemed to show every tooth in the imp’s head. “Of course I am.”
Mikela nodded. “All right, what was Flare’s message to me?”
Ziteul glanced to where the end of the staff still pointed at him, then he chose to ignore it. He sat up as straight as he could under the bed and tried to regain a bit of dignity. “He said to tell you that some of Zalustus’s lieutenants are in Elem. He’s watching two now. He wants you to come with me.”
Mikela regarded the imp with suspicion. As far as she knew, Flare was the only one who was capable of summoning a demon, so she doubted this was a trap, but then again, the demon hardly seemed trustworthy. “And he sent you for me?”
“You, two fighters named Heather and Enton, and a dwarf. Any of you, or all of you.”
“Why should I go?” Mikela asked.
Ziteul blinked up at the woman in confusion. “Why? Because the master demands it, that’s why.”
“I don’t trust you,” Mikela said quietly.
Ziteul’s eyes went wide for a moment and then he snarled at her, showing all his teeth. “I do not care if you trust me! I’ve done as I was told, and I can tell it to the master.” His snarl disappeared, and he regarded the staff again and his eyes narrowed. “Please do not hit me again.”
For a moment, Mikela had the unmistakable impression that this imp was a child. She hesitated, nodded, and withdrew the staff. The demon began to crawl out from under the bed. She made a quick decision. “I’ll come with you.”
It took only moments for Mikela to get dressed and grab some reagents; she wasn’t sure what Flare had in mind but she wanted to be prepared.
She put on her long oiled cloak on before she left her room. It was necessary so as to be able to hide the imp. She resisted the urge to laugh at the thought of a long gray tail poking out from under her cloak.
They moved down the stairs, and she paused long enough to look into the common room. Relief flooded through her at the sight of Heather listening forlornly to the musician as he played a soft heart-wrenching tune. She considered bringing Heather along but decided against it. The woman had obviously been drinking and might cause problems.
She backed out of the common room entrance and exited through the inn’s front door. The night was fairly quiet, with only an occasional eruption of noise coming from the direction of the docks.
The rain had stopped falling but a thick mist kept everything wet. A steady breeze was blowing off the bay and the wind actually made the temperature comfortable.
Ziteul shifted around so that his body was on her left side. His head was nestled between her left arm and breast. “Go west to just past the candle maker’s shop and then turn south.”
Being very careful, and trying to look every direction at once, Mikela slowly obeyed.
It took her half an hour to follow Ziteul’s directions to a dark and narrow alley. As soon as they turned the corner, the imp jumped down and scurried forward into the darkness.
Suspicious again, Mikela slowly followed the imp forward. She couldn’t see Ziteul or anything else, but she resisted conjuring a ball of light; the light would have only alerted anyone and everyone to her whereabouts.
She took several more steps forward and froze as a form materialized in front of her. The shape was dark and eerie, and Mikela took two quick steps back; her left hand dropped to the hilt of her belt knife. But then the form stepped from some of the darker shadows and faded into the unmistakable outline of Flare.
Mikela sighed deeply and her whole body slumped. “Flare,” she began, but stopped as he held a finger to his lips.
Flare stepped close to Mikela and said in a very low voice, “Not too loud. I don’t want them to know we’re here.”
Mikela nodded and whispered back, “Where are they?”
“Across the street, hidden behind some crates,” Flare answered. “I know the swordsman was at Mul-Dune, but his companion looks like a kid.” He took her by the hand and led her forward.
He walked slowly, as the alley was small and piled with garbage. It was a good thing, because Mikela couldn’t see anything in the pitch blackness. He led her to the front of the alley and pulled her down behind some stacked barrels. The light was only slightly better at the front of the alley, but it was enough to at least some outlines. There was a small gap between two of the barrels and he pointed at it.
“Look through there,” he said. “They’re behind some crates next to the alley across from the inn.”
Mikela peered through the small opening until she located the crates across the street. She stared for several long moments, but couldn’t see any persons. She turned from the gap and very quietly asked, “Are they still there? I can’t see anything but the crates.”
“They’re there,” Flare answered. “They’re just hidden very well.”
“All right,” Mikela said after a moment, “what do we do?”
“I want you to stay here and watch them. I’m going to get some dry clothes on and then I’ll be back.”
“Watch them?” Mikela asked. “How? I can’t even see them.”
Flare nodded. “You’ll be able to see them once they move. Don’t worry.”
“What do I do if they move or leave?”
“Send Ziteul to find me,” F
lare answered. “It’ll be light soon, and I won’t be gone long.”
Flare moved slowly and quietly for the first several blocks and then he picked up his pace. He considered using sorcery to see if there were any other watchers around, but he was afraid that Zalustus might have a sorcerer with him, and he didn’t want to alert the enemy to his presence. He kept the hood on his cloak pulled up and he hurried through the fog.
The streets were empty and he reached the inn quickly. A servant always slept in the front foyer, and he didn’t want his comings and goings known, so Flare walked around to use the back entrance. The rear door was locked, of course, but Flare tapped it with a finger and said, “Emaneeria,” and the lock clicked open.
Smiling, Flare stepped inside and quietly climbed the back stairs to the second floor.
Flare opened the door to his and Enton’s room as quietly as possible and then nearly jumped out of his skin as Enton let out a massive snore. Fearing that he would wake the entire inn, Flare slipped inside and closed the door quickly.
He breathed a sigh of relief and began to hurriedly change his clothes. It was such a relief to get the soaked clothes off and he immediately felt better.
Once he was dressed, he headed for the door, but stopped. He considered waking Enton and bringing him along. After a moment, he decided against it. If they had to watch the enemy another night, a good portion of the sentry duty would fall on Heather and Enton; better to let them sleep while they could.
He slipped back out into the hall and closed the door behind him. It took him only moments to descend the stairs, but he paused before the rear door. He hadn’t eaten in many hours, and his stomach was groaning at the lack of food.
He turned his steps toward the kitchen. There had to be something that he could grab and take with him.
Derek couldn’t fall asleep until just a few hours before sunrise, mainly due to the large number of painful boils on his back, legs, and buttocks, but he finally managed to slip into a light slumber. So he was understandably irritated when he was awoken a little after the sun came up.
He climbed from the bed and stretched. He didn’t even realize that the pain in his neck and shoulder was gone until he looked in the mirror. For a moment he just stared at his reflection. He wasn’t a vain man, but after a day spent humped over and covered in boils, he was immensely pleased to see his old face again.
There was a soft tapping at the door, and he realized that was what had awakened him. He glanced around, but Trestus had already left the room.
He had spent the last night in some pain and, consequently, he had slept naked. He grabbed the blanket off his bed and strode over to the door. He opened it a bit and peered through the crack.
Kara stood in the hallway and she looked unhappy.
Derek felt sure he could guess the reason. She had to take that vile potion again and, from personal experience, he hoped to never even smell the stuff again.
Kara looked him up and down. “Get dressed and then come to our room. We’re getting ready to leave.”
She turned and was gone before he could even respond. Nevertheless, he pulled on his clothes from yesterday and walked the short distance to Kara’s room.
He was the last one to arrive. Everyone else was already there and Keenan looked much better today than he had yesterday. The affects of the alcohol seemed to have finally worn off. Derek had distinctly heard the prince muttering, “Never again,” but he doubted that would last very long.
Derek’s eyes were drawn to the small table, upon which sat a steaming mug of the vile concoction that Enstorion used to change their appearance. He let out a small sigh of relief that it was for Kara and not him. He tried hard to hide his feelings but he got the feeling that he failed miserably.
“We’re almost ready to go,” Kara said. She was the only one standing, the others were all seated.
“I want to take Leela with us,” Keenan said suddenly.
Derek turned to look at the prince. “Why?”
“Just in case we have any problem finding the shield.”
Derek doubted they could miss the one he had described, but he also didn’t see any harm in the wildling going with them. He shrugged. “All right.” He glanced at Leela, noting that she was already dressed. It appeared they had reached this decision previously.
Derek looked back to Keenan. “I haven’t been able to discover a way for us to steal the shield. Stay alert. Perhaps you’ll spot something I missed.”
Keenan nodded. “Anything else?”
Derek thought for a moment and then shook his head. “Nothing, except of course, to be careful.”
Mikela sat on the ground, staring through the small gap between barrels. The sun had not broken over the horizon, but it was close, and the darkness was already disappearing. She could see the crates much more clearly now and, on several occasions, she even saw the fighter that Flare had said was there.
She recognized the dark swordsman from Mul-Dune. The first time she spotted him had been a shock; her breath had caught, and it felt like her heart was going to beat right through her chest. Her reaction surprised her. She wasn’t scared of this man, but they had spent days at Mul-Dune thinking they were going to die at any time. She had thought that the fear was long gone, but just seeing that man brought it all back. She breathed slowly and willed her heart to slow down.
Eventually, Mikela spotted the kid that Flare had described. He hadn’t been behind the crates, but instead had been farther back in the alley. She didn’t recognize him and there wasn’t any rush of buried anxiety upon viewing him. Then again, he hardly looked old enough to be a soldier and his involvement at Mul-Dune would most likely have been minimal.
Another figure joined them, and this one she did recognize. He most certainly had been at Mul-Dune. Like her, he was a magician. He was average-looking and thin, but she had seen firsthand that he was a capable mage.
The mage moved over and awkwardly bent down behind the crates with the other two. In an instant, the meaning of what she was seeing dawned on Mikela. She hadn’t seen the kid yet this morning because he had left. He had gone somewhere and returned with the mage.
The sun broke over the hills to the west and still the sentries didn’t move. They just sat behind their crates and watched.
The sun had been up for maybe half an hour when the front door of the inn opened and three figures stepped out into the street. Most of the rain from the previous day had run off in the storm gutters and the stone road was mostly dry and easy to travel.
Mikela leaned out a bit from behind her barrels, trying to get a better look. The small group was two women and a man. The woman on the left was young, had very pale skin, and long dark hair. She was dressed simply, and Mikela had never laid eyes on the woman before.
The middle woman was humped over and appeared disfigured. She had long, whitish-blond hair and was covered in boils. Mikela scrunched up her nose at the poor woman’s condition, but she was fairly certain that she had never seen this woman before either.
The man was on the right and all Mikela could see was his back. He had long, blond hair that hung to his shoulders and he carried himself with a grace that marked him as wealthy, perhaps even a minor noble. Mikela’s forehead wrinkled in confusion at that thought. What would a noble be doing with women like those two?
Mikela shrugged and was just about to lean back when the man glanced back up the street. She was still hidden behind the barrels, and he couldn’t see her, but she could see him. For the second time in the last hour or two her breath caught. She recognized the man; he too had been at Mul-Dune. She watched as he looked up and down the street and then led the two women north.
Mikela swallowed hard, wondering what this meant. Why were three of Zalustus’s lieutenants watching another of his followers? And who were the two women?
She was just about to call for Ziteul to send him after Flare when she noticed movement across the street. As soon as the three travelers were out of sight, the k
id stood up and ran back into the alley. Utterly confused, Mikela forgot all about the imp.
Fantin waited for Elber to run back up the alley, and then he turned and looked at Kaleb the magician. He had been hoping that Keenan would remain at the inn, as that would give him the chance to capture the traitor. He was most displeased to see Keenan leading the two women. “Could you tell if the two women were magically disguised?”
Kaleb’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “The woman in the middle had the look of one whose true appearance has been obscured, but I could not tell for sure without a closer inspection.”
“And the other woman?” Fantin asked. “Could she be one of the men magically disguised?”
“One of the men?” Kaleb repeated slowly. He had the look of a person deep in thought. After a moment he nodded. “It’s possible, but that would require much greater magic.”
Now it was Fantin who looked confused. “Why?”
“It’s far easier to alter a person’s natural appearance than it is to give one a completely different appearance. It’s more difficult to make a man look like a woman than it is to change the way a woman looks.”
“But it is possible?” Fantin asked.
Kaleb hesitated and then slowly nodded. “It is possible, but I am surprised that the mage was able to perform such magic at an inn.”
Fantin looked back toward the inn. “Kaleb, Keenan is going to the abbey and Zalustus is going to capture him, and Jasmine will get the glory. If they find the shield there, you too will have glory, but I’m sure it won’t be long before Jasmine forces you aside.”
Kaleb watched Fantin through suspicious eyes. “And what is it that you want to do?”
Fantin waved his hand back at the inn. “Let’s capture the remaining two Guardians.”
“Two?” Kaleb repeated.
“Yes, two,” Fantin said. He resisted the urge to smile, but he felt sure he had the magician’s attention. “Keenan fled Dahl-Rucka with the four Guardians; the two male fighters, the elven mage, and the female cleric. Keenan and two of those four just left, so that only leaves two inside the inn.”
Victory and Defeat: Book Five of the Restoration Series Page 15
