Chronicles of Den'dra: A Land Torn: Ancient Powers Awaken

by Spencer Johnson

  Sure a body had been found enrobed in the classic black cloak and outfitted with tools of the trade. Reigns had gone so far as to travel up into the mountains to look on this corpse with his own eyes. To all appearances the man had escaped the myriad ambushes and traps only to die of injuries sustained. Reigns remembered every detail of the scene as he had seen it. A light covering of snow had covered everything but at his orders nothing had been disturbed. Strangely the man had fallen in death face first into the fire rendering any recognition impossible. The legendary sword was not to be found anywhere. The only identifying clues were the cloak and the dozens of insidious contraptions found on the body. Even the bow had fallen into the fire and was consumed but for a tip and a strand of stretched gut.

  Refraining from touching the body Reigns had watched as four of his men had been injured by several of the devices about the body. One soldier had a small crossbow bolt run through his hand when he had lifted a dead hand. Another had pricked himself on a hidden needle in the collar of the cloak. Another such needle had been found hidden in the belt buckle. The soldier tasked with removing the dead man’s boots had found a hidden blade in his wrist after tugging on the heel with his other hand. All four had been dead by the morning.

  Still something hadn’t seemed right about the whole scene. The legendary sword was missing and only a hint of the fearsome bow was found. Reigns still couldn’t shake the feeling that out there somewhere the Asgare still stalked the shadows. Despite his orders nothing had filtered in from his spy network. No word was unearthed that gave any indication of life to the assassin.

  Reigns was leaving his collection when an insane thought occurred to him. What if his men had accidently come across the retired Asgare in their search for the target? After entertaining the absurd idea for a few moments he discarded it as improbable. For one there had been no sign of the Asgare in the past fifteen years. Another thing was that the Asgare hunt had taken place in the northern Garoche lowlands and had lead into the heights. This location was much farther south even though... It was still in the Garoche. Finally he discarded the idea as impossible and returned upstairs.

  Reigns entered the study just as the page from earlier was leaving a new letter on the desk. The lad shook like a leaf at the Chancellor's sudden appearance but left with a wave of Reign’s hand. Opening the letter and reading the contents caused the color to drain from his face. The horses had been retrieved and recognized as belonging to the missing soldiers. The commander conducting the investigation had begun to suspect that not all was right and had begun poking around the burnt house. Out behind the house had been found two bodies buried in shallow graves. Unrecognizable in their advanced stage of decomposition it was only a guess at to their identity until four sets of soldier’s chain mail, clothing and the horse team’s tack had been found. Unfortunately time, rain and a lack of a source smell meant that the hounds were useless. A report from a villager had placed all the soldiers at the house and the father leaving with a couple of the soldiers in search of the target.

  There were now four bodies and four missing soldiers. The math wasn’t complicated however the result of the computations was far from clarifying. The earlier scenario involving the Asgare’s returned. This time with corroborating pieces of evidence like the age of the youthful target, the lack of tracks and skillful manner in which the cover-up had been conducted. Still it was too improbable but now the idea was placed somewhere a little less likely to be forgotten.

  No matter the circumstances this target was too valuable to escape. Every resource was going to be used to track the individual down. The resulting letter was to that effect. There was one for the spymaster and another for the commander conducting the investigation.

  Having done everything possible for the one problem Reigns turned his attention back to the other one that had triggered his journey to the vaults. The rumors of a Dragon Lord were not to be taken lightly and would bear further investigation. If only the soldier had been more forthcoming in his report so much time could have been saved. Unfortunately the letter that bore the man’s tale had also born news of his death. The inquiries would have to be conducted secretly because of the possible repercussions if word got out. Reigns yearned to conduct an interrogation. To hear the gratifying screams of the human being interrogated.

  Sighing heavily he turned to some of the other letters at hand. There would be no time today to make the trip to the prison to gratify his more violent tendencies. Be that as it may, someone needed to run the kingdom and the king was in no shape to be that someone. There were wars that needed to be conducted and decisions to be made.

  In truth there was really only one war being fought. The dragons had resisted with surprising success and any who tread their grounds was dispatched in short order. Accept for this rumored village. The elven front was really the only active front. The elves had refused to trade with what they had long considered a lesser race. Reigns thought not of his own elven blood when he ordered the first attacks on the Great Forest. Long since that day the elves had retreated into the green depths of the forest and only appeared for lightning attacks on any intruding parties.

  The irony was not lost on Reigns. A half elf convincing the masses that the elves had been planning to eliminate Humankind. Their superior opinion of themselves had immeasurably helped his deception. He was secure in his power, even if they did know of his heritage there was nothing they could do about him. Reigns was certain that nothing could challenge his power.

  Chapter Ten

  Tusul looked up from his bench as a new customer came through his door. Not readily recognizing the individual outside of the circle of light shed by his candle he returned to work. The visitor would introduce himself if he had any business to conduct. Being a cobbler in Warton was not a profitable occupation but it kept one from starvation. Or two for that matter. His wife was in the back preparing supper even now. Their home was the back half of the store.

  “My shoe broke a seam.” Tusul looked up to identify the speaker and mumbled something about coming back for it in a day or so. The bulk of his visitor hid the face from the light.

  “I was hoping that you could repair it sooner” Tusul caught his breath as the man sat down opposite him. Brounn hadn’t been near Tusul’s shop in the last eight years.

  “What brings you here?” Tusul knew that the shoe he was being asked to repair hadn’t been purchased at his establishment so why it was here to be repaired was the question that nagged him.

  “I need my shoe repaired.” Brounn repeated stubbornly.

  “I have other work to do.” Tusul shrugged at the rows of shoes that were awaiting his attention. Brounn simple leaned back against a set of shelves that stood behind his stool. A normal man would have been uncomfortable but Brounn was well padded.

  “I see, I see. Your wife help you out often?” Tusul shook his head sharply and leaned back to the shoe on his knee.

  “She is a seamstress.” Tusul didn’t elaborate much beyond the comment.

  “So she doesn’t know the old family trade?” Tusul’s blood ran cooler for a moment. Looking up he scrutinized the blank face that was presented by Brounn. It was an ominous question considering what the old trade had been.

  “She sews clothes. Some are over there.” Tusul pointed but noticed that Brounn never even hinted at looking. Tusul was suspicious that the man already knew all this. Brounn picked up a finished pair of boots and feigned an interested examination.

  “Such fine stitches. Close seams. You always did do such good work.” Tusul was now sweating. Every comment Brounn made had a hidden barb.

  “As good as any other cobbler.” Tusul wasn’t about to make a slip. The man he faced had only ever had loyalty for one person and that person was dead these fifteen years.

  “Better than most. I was talking with an old friend the other day and he asked about you.” Brounn stretched the truth a little. Urake had asked generally about the entire network. Tusul froze mid stitch an
d waited for any further words. Hearing none he looked up.

  “Who was it?” Tusul well knew that in the times he lived in that only an accusation was necessary for people to disappear forever.

  “Just an old friend I hadn’t seen in a long time.” Tusul had beads of sweat forming on his brow. If a member of the old network had turned then they were all in danger. At least everyone that had been in this portion of the organization. The old network had been constructed in such a way that only one or two people knew most of the people and only then so gaps could be repaired. Everyone else only knew the person above him or her and the people that reported directly to them. This meant that if any one part fell then the rest would be untouched unless the head was caught. Tusul wasn’t sure if what he was hearing was a warning that someone who knew of Tusul’s involvement had turned and that he was in danger or if Brounn was the threat. He racked his brain looking for any of his contacts that he had had in the network that knew enough about him to be a threat. Most the people he knew were long gone. The list was short. Tusul’s contributions hadn’t been in the way of spying for the most part. Only Brounn and another two or three knew of him.

  “What did he want?” Tusul mechanically ran his awl through the leather while he waited.

  “A trifling matter. He expressed an interest in the old business.” There is was again. That reference to the old business.

  “The old business?” Tusul let the words hang in the air. Brounn seemed not to notice and brushed on.

  “A shadowy character really. I don’t hear from him for years then he shows up of a sudden.” Tusul’s mind was working at Brounn’s cryptic comments feverishly in an attempt to extract any usable information. The comment about shadows wasn’t lost on him. It was now certain that the conversation was indeed about an acquaintance from the old spy network. A glance behind him told Tusul that his wife was beyond hearing distance.

  “What do you really want?”

  “He showed up so suddenly after so long that it was like he had returned from the dead.” Brounn ignored Tusul’s question.

  “From the dead?” Tusul caught himself before he said anything that might be used against him.

  “White as fog and as black as night he stood there in front of me. I almost didn’t recognize him after all these years." Tusul almost dropped the shoe he was working on when he heard the reference to the uses of a certain cloak he had designed years ago.

  “Did he have the usual companions?” If there was one way to find out if they were talking about the same person, he hoped he conveyed the question well enough.

  “A bit of gray in the hair added a little ice to an already sharp profile. He did look strung as tightly as ever.” The description answered Tusul’s question with its reference to Ice Heart and a bow.

  “Was he alone or did he bring friends?”

  “He had one friend with him but he is likely to keep him around for a while. I couldn’t help but notice that our friend was missing the usual accessories.” So this finally was what the visit was about.

  “It is a shame really. They always did half the work.” Tusul got confirmation in Brounn’s face. It had always been a long standing argument over whether or not on Tusul’s inventions or the sword and bow were more important to the “old friend”.

  “They only do so much for the image.”

  “I tell you what. I can have these shoes better than new by tomorrow morning. Tell our old friend that I am pleased he is well. He might even be able to visit me next time he comes through Warton.” Tusul returned to his work placidly. Quite honestly he was more than pleased to hear that the old business would resume. Being a cobbler had always been a front but it was boring work that never touched on Tusul’s true talents.

  “And here I came thinking it would take a while to get such a broken shoe fixed.” It was Brounn’s turn to be surprised. He had not expected the requested items so quickly.

  “What can I say? I don’t like having idle hands and it’s always a pleasure to do work for old friends.” Tusul spread his hands and smiled wanly at Brounn. After the big man had taken his departure Tusul glanced over at the row of work orders he had remaining. Most cobblers in town had a similar row displayed near the front shop window. It made it easy for customers to see how much work a cobbler had on his schedule and how soon they could expect to get their work finished. To not see this row was more likely to turn away customers for they would think that on the one hand the cobbler was poor at his trade to have no other customers. The other thing it could mean was that the cobbler was a liar hiding the amount of work he had on his hands and thus meaning that any work given him was not to be expected finished on a timely basis.

  Tusul was fully aware of this and kept a box of used shoes to maintain the row should the work flow slow. When he had been employed in the past he had few orders because of his lengthy row of broken shoes and boots. He would daily adjust them to give the illusion of performing work but the truth was that seldom did a pair of shoes cross his table.

  The real work was done in the attic. Finishing the shoe on his bench he examined it and placed it on a shelf for pickup. Supper was going to be ready soon but not yet so he took a look at Brounn’s shoe. It wasn’t hard to tell that the seam stitches had been cut all at once instead of having worn through with use. It was the work of only a few minutes before the shoe was as good as new.

  Supper was announced shortly and Tusul left his work to eat. While he ate he pondered a few things. Namely what Turana would think of his past employment. She was a good cook and wielded her needle with skill but lacked the looks that other men often sought in a bride. Neither of them were young but were nearly matched in age. She complimented his skills and they worked well enough as a team. What had started as an arrangement had grown into respect and finally a love of sorts. She wasn’t stupid and noticed his thoughtful contemplation during the meal namely through his silence. She asked a few questions and not receiving any definitive response let off knowing that he would tell her in his own time.

  “Did you ever hear of the Asgare?” Turana was startled by the sudden blunt question.

  “What? I mean yes. Everyone has heard of the shadow reaper.” Turana waited for any further elaboration and was about to resign herself when Tusul spoke up again.

  “He wasn’t as bad as all the tales say.”

  “How would you know? They say he killed everyone that ever saw him.” Turana wondered what this had to do with anything.

  “I saw him and he didn’t kill me.” Tusul didn’t miss a bite. Turana on the other hand sat without moving for a few moments observing her husband.

  “When was this and how did you know it was him?” Turana waited until Tusul had finished his mouthful.

  “I used to work for him.” Turana smiled a little as if what she hearing was a joke.

  “So the best assassin on the continent needed a new pair of shoes?”

  “Not exactly however I did make him a fine set of boots. I was more into making the accessories.” Tusul watched Turana’s expression change from incredulous to confusion.

  “But you are a cobbler. What would he want with you?” Turana had forgotten her food.

  “My family comes from a long line of device makers that more frequently than not are used by assassins. We used to be in the employ of the clans but then Illiad united the kingdom. Our work went largely out of style until the Asgare found me.” Tusul quietly explained.

  “That makes no sense. Even if he was in your shop how would you know it was him? Why are you telling me this? What proof do you have?” Turana released her question and rubbed her temples as if what she was hearing was giving her a headache.

  “The Asgare was hired to kill your brother because he was gifted.” Turana froze. Her brother had disappeared without a trace many years ago and Tusul’s comment brought back old fears.

  “Why are you telling me this?” Turana whispered without looking up.

  “I helped him escape that nig
ht. The Asgare met him here and escorted him to Shienhin. I'm telling you because he told me that I could tell you.” Tears were in Turana’s eyes when Tusul finished.

  “My brother is alive? And you never told me?” Tusul paused apprehensively at Turana’s words for the first time since he had started.

  “I don’t know where he is now but the Asgare took him because the chancellor thought that he was gifted and wanted him dead. Most of the people that were supposedly killed were only moved by him to safer places. I didn’t tell you before because you were both safer without knowing. After the Asgare disappeared I didn’t think it mattered if you knew or not about what I used to do. I didn’t want to tell you about your brother because without the Asgare protecting him anything that was said might endanger him.” Turana listened quietly without changing her expression.

  “Why now?” Tusul hoped he had made the right choice. The choice that the Asgare had given him permission to make those many long years ago.

  “The Asgare isn’t dead. He came back.” Tusul watched Turana. He was prepared for her to hold a grudge against him for not telling her about her brother and in hindsight it wasn’t among his better decisions keeping the information from her.

  “So he helps people instead of killing them and you help him do it.” It sounded like a statement but was stated like question.

  “Come let me show you something.” Turana mechanically followed Tusul from the table to the garderobe after he had grabbed a candle. She remained silent as the door closed behind them in the tight space lit only by the candle. She didn’t even comment when Tusul stepped on the loose floorboard where it went under the wall. Tusul pushed on the wall and a section a couple feet wide slid back into the wall a couple inches before soundlessly sliding sideways revealing a ladder in the wall. Placing the candle on a shelf that had never before had a purpose he climbed the ladder and a section of the ceiling slid aside. The candle was at just the right height for Tusul to hold on with one hand and move the candle into the room above with the other hand. A moment later he had disappeared. The candle moved to shed light on the ladder and she followed.