Death Mage's Nemesis (Death Mage Series Book 4)

by Jon Bender

  Coming around the final bend, Keller found the situation much as he had left it, but some of the priests had summoned more shadow beasts to attack the rebels. On the bridge, the soldiers had cleared much of the burning debris and Keller could see Prasil ordering more men in to help. His low profile went unnoticed in his glide, allowing him to take his time and aim both hands at a tight group of the rebels. When the void shot forth from his palms, they caught the rebels unaware, the solid beams of absolute darkness cutting cleanly through seven of the men and women. Some died instantly, others were not so fortunate, but the result was the same.

  Before they could retaliate, he released the flow of magic and began lifting up again. It wouldn’t have mattered. The rebels were busy dealing with the shadow beasts swooping and diving at them as they struggled to aid their wounded comrades. Keller was making a turn to come back at them from a higher angle but found it unnecessary. The rebels seemed to have had enough as they began fleeing into the alleys and buildings. He was happy that the fight was over, though troubled at how calm their retreat appeared. They were not simply running to save their lives, but carrying their wounded and watching for threats as they fled. This was not the normal rebellion that he had encountered in the past, uprisings that involved angry mobs wielding clubs and heaving stones – these dissenters were far more organized with true weapons. They had also taken heavy casualties before retreating, unlike other revolts he had ended. It showed a level of discipline and training that disturbed Keller. These were not just a rabble that would break at the first charge, but a real fighting force – one with a goal they were prepared to die for.

  When the last rebel had disappeared, he lifted up above the buildings once more to see what was happening at the wall. The scene there had changed only slightly with more chunks of the once firm barrier missing as the assault continued. He searched for any sign of the few soldiers who had been assigned to the southern city. With the exception of one large patrol that seemed to be moving to a section of wall, he found only the scattered sites of smaller battles that had taken place between buildings, most littered with the black tabards of those loyal to Or’Keer. The rebels had been efficient in eliminating most of the city’s defense in less than an hour. That one patrol he saw could not have numbered more than two-hundred men, and would not be enough to stop the rebels. Keller hoped they would be able to stall for time until the thousands of men on the northern side of the river made it across.

  Landing among the bodies of rebels he and the shadow beasts had killed, he waited for the first soldiers led by Taft and Prasil to arrive. Flames still burned on the bridge, but enough had been cleared to allow a trickle through as the rest were removed. He felt Hailey moving closer as well, and when he looked, saw that she was not the only faithful to quickly slip past the flames. The dark clothed servants did not stop on the other side, instead, they continued deeper into the city.

  “They will scout ahead for us, but will not engage the traitors until we do,” Benkt said. “Their numbers are not great enough to do any considerable damage before they are overwhelmed.”

  Keller nodded at the reasoning. “Make sure you and your brothers are behind the men when we march. From what I saw, the rebels are trying to bring down the wall in the south. The mages are even now attacking it. Their militia will likely be defending the casters’ backs as they work, and I don’t want to sacrifice any priests until we get past them.”

  “Militia,” Benkt scoffed. “I would not call this rabble a militia. They are nothing more than wild dogs attacking the hand that feeds them.”

  Keller spun on the priest so quickly that Benkt took an involuntary step back. Or’Keer’s finger formed on the ground between them at Keller’s command and wrapped around the priest’s shoulders. For days, he had met the man’s disrespect and undisciplined tongue with patience, a patience that had just run out. As he threw Benkt’s slight form hard to the ground, Keller knew he was only venting his own frustrations at failing to stop the attack. Even so, he did not care. The man needed to be reminded of his place once and for all.

  “We have already underestimated them and are now paying for it. We will not do so again. Treat them as you would any invading army. Do you understand?” he growled.

  The priests and soldiers surrounding them gave Keller more space, not wanting to be caught up in his wrath as well. Most did everything they could to avoid looking in his direction. Benkt lifted himself to an elbow as he stared as Keller with narrowed his eyes. His continued insolence enraged Keller further and he took a step closer to the priest. Finally, Benkt lowered his eyes to the ground and nodded. Keller was unsure what action he would have taken if the priest had not done so, but he had the feeling that Benkt had just saved himself from death. With the matter settled, he returned his attention back to their situation.

  Prasil and Taft had chosen to ignore the small argument by keeping their distance from the obviously angry Keller, using the time instead to get the soldiers into formations. From what Keller could see of their arrangements, they were breaking up the men into several large groups consisting of five-hundred each. The forces were being set to take different streets in their advance. Keller had never been involved in all-out battle with an organized enemy so decided not to intervene. Both men would have years of experience in such things and his commands would likely only impede them.

  “Do you truly think they are that much of a threat?” Hailey asked from behind her shadow mask.

  He had not noticed that she had taken a place near him, she blended so well into the shadows and dealing with Benkt had taken his attention from the bond. Now he could feel a sense of satisfaction emanating from her, but chose to ignore it. What did it matter if she took some measure of pleasure at seeing the priest chastised? Keller was sure that Benkt would have been more open about his enjoyment if it had been her.

  “Already they have been able to coordinate a diversion,” Keller said, struggling to keep the cold chill from his voice. “They have likely killed many important people loyal to Or’Keer while under a curfew, slowed our response by blocking the bridges, and are, as we speak, opening a path for an invading army. Yes, they are a threat.”

  Hailey stood silently for many seconds, but the bond let him know she wanted to say more. Finally, she relented and faced him squarely. “I want to apologize for what happened earlier. I am still adjusting to this new… life. I know that you risked much to save me, and I will try to be more worthy of that.”

  Her words loosened some of the tension he felt, and even helped to dampen the anger at Benkt who had regained his feet to stand quietly out of his sight.

  “Thank you, but your faith is not our highest concern at the moment. When the fighting starts, stay close to me,” he said, not sure why he was feeling regret for reacting so violently to her emotions, something she had no more control over than he did. She was after all one of the faithful, and her life was no more valuable than any other.

  He felt a tremor of gratitude and perhaps a bit of happiness flow through the bond. “Of course, Chosen One. I will fulfill my obligation.”

  “I may need your abilities when we face the mages. Even with our priests, I think they will have an advantage in power,” he said, trying to return the brief moment of closeness to a more professional attitude.

  “I am ready,” she replied. Her emotions had been tempered, but he could still sense that thread of happiness.

  “We are ready, Chosen One,” Prasil said joining them.

  Keller found that most of the soldiers were indeed in place. “Then let’s get moving. I want this revolt finished tonight, and those responsible paying for their betrayal in the morning.”

  Taking a place at the head of one of the columns, Keller led the force of men into the city at Prasil’s command to march. He was still unsure what waited for them ahead, but he would not disappoint his god with any more failures.

  Chapter 11

  Harlow watched as his torchlight flickered over an
other group of women and children passing through what had once been a grand entrance into the city. The finely carved stone arches, now cracked and covered in moss from decades of neglect, would lead them to a tunnel taking them nearly a mile beyond the walls. Once above ground again, they would find the wagons and supplies waiting for them. There were far more than he had anticipated, but every person who made it this far was one less at risk of being taken by the priests.

  Overhead, he could hear the sounds of explosion and grinding stone. Once they had cleared the southern city of Or’Keer’s loyal soldiers, he had proceeded to the wall itself where Tillen had arrived with over twenty-five mages, the casters having already begun their work on destroying sections of the wall. The thief was more nervous than he had been at Harlow’s shop, but had not let the emotion overtake him. He had stood in the open directing the few fighters under his command to set up barricades in many of the streets. These were the largest avenues leading to where the mages were doing their work, making them the most vulnerable to a sizable force once the shadow mage got across the bridge. The other smaller streets had been left intentionally open to lure units into traps. In those places Harlow’s men were in position on rooftops and in windows with bows and spears. Every fighter knew that there was no hope of victory in the coming battle, but they had to hold on as long as they could or until the mages had completed their work. Someone placed a hand on his shoulder startling him and taking his mind from what was happening on the streets above.

  “This is no time to lose your nerve,” Renil said, her smile as seductive as ever. She still wore the finely made clothes of her profession, and her auburn hair was done up with small sparkling pins to hold back curls. If not for the dark, dank surroundings and the smudge of dirt on her forehead, she looked ready to entertain the rich patrons that visited her establishment.

  “I haven’t lost my nerve. I’m just jumpy. We are so close, but there is still time for a lot to go wrong,” he said.

  Her flirtatious visage took on a more concerned look. “Things are going according to the plan… mostly.”

  He turned to face fully. “What do you mean?”

  “I just left Calba’din. He picked me up from the northern city personally. He says that several of his drivers never made it to the undercity entry points. He thinks they may have been captured or killed, along with at least fifteen of my ladies.”

  Harlow absorbed the news, but did his best to show no emotion. “We knew there would be casualties, and they won’t be the last before the night is done.”

  Renil nodded, but his words seemed to offer no comfort. “I just hope that some of us make it out of this alive.”

  “You should get going,” he said, not wanting to dwell on the possibility of failure. “Your part is done, and there is no need for you to risk yourself further. Get to the wagons and I will see you soon.”

  She leaned forward and kissed him gently on the cheek. “Good luck,” she whispered, before joining a group of people moving under the arches.

  Seeing that Tillen’s people had everything in hand, he started off through a side tunnel that would lead him back up to the southern city. As he climbed a set of chipped stone stairs, he took in the undercity one more time. The smell of damp stone and cool chill that penetrated his clothes was soothing. The warren of old halls and streets had served them well over the years, protecting them and making their goals possible. He felt a strange sense of loss at being forced to flee them. Sighing, he let the feeling go and continued his climb. After several turns and two more flights of stairs, he found himself in a dug tunnel with a haphazardly-constructed ladder. Climbing, he exited in the cellar of a building that held several families. The people who lived above the undercity entrance would know by now that something was happening, and were likely hidden as best they could to avoid being caught up in it. Moving out a small door leading to the street, he was greeted by several swords, one pressed forcefully against his neck forcing him to lift his chin or be cut.

  “Good work, but save it for the Dark God’s people,” he said unconcerned.

  The blade was withdrawn. “Sorry, Harlow. We weren’t expecting you back here,” Terk, one of his lieutenants, said.

  “Where else would I be?” he asked, curious to see what they thought of him.

  “We guessed you would be getting the families out, or making sure that everything was okay at the wall,” Terk replied.

  Well at least they didn’t think he would abandon them to get away himself. “Everything is going as it should, now we have to make sure we hold up our part,” he said, with more confidence than he felt.

  “We haven’t seen any sign of them since the last patrol was destroyed,” Terk said.

  Harlow looked up the dark street. Unlike the northern city, there were no street lamps to give light. “That will change soon enough. Get into place and be ready.”

  The men began moving off, some entering the buildings while others took position in alleys. He couldn’t see them all, but knew there were at least fifty scattered about. They would only be able to harass and slow the soldiers, but the plan was never to stop them completely. As Terk moved off into one of the buildings, Harlow started to the next ambush site. Even as he prepared himself for the coming fight, his mind continued to drift back to Fulvia. He wanted right then to return to the undercity so that he could enter the temple to rescue her. Marish would also be there, but in the deepest part of his being, Harlow knew he would leave the merchant faction leader if it meant saving her. He passed a cross street where just a block away he could make out the eight-foot barricade that had been built. A gentle breeze also brought with it the scent of oil, the fuel waiting to be lit once the dark mage’s forces arrived. Everything they did was only to stall Or’Keer’s loyalists. They would avoid open fighting as long as possible, being no match for the number of soldiers that were surely heading their way.

  Just as he was about to pass the street, shouting reached his ears from the barricade. “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” a woman yelled from beyond the barricade.

  Harlow ran up the street as some of Tillen’s men appeared from the shadows. All wore dark clothing and masks of thieves. His sudden appearance startled them as he came up from behind, but he ignored their reaction to scale the jumble of carts, crates, and barrels. Reaching the top was difficult with the oil-slicked wood, but he was there to help the woman climb over. Getting her to the bottom again was difficult as she seemed unable to use one arm. Reaching the street, he found out why. She had packed a wad of cloth into the space where her shoulder had been. It looked as if a skilled butcher had removed the flesh in a perfect half circle and he knew that only magic could have caused such a neat wound.

  “What happened?” he asked, once the woman had collapsed to the ground. He recognized her as one of his faction, but couldn’t remember her name. Several of the thieves had circled to give aid while the others kept their eyes on the way she had come.

  When she looked up at him, her thin face was paler than that of the moonlight and still she managed a smile in relief. “The dark mage attacked the center bridge and we were forced to run,” she said, her breath coming in pants. The last I saw hundreds of men were coming across, if not thousands.”

  He nodded and placed a hand under her arm to help back to her feet. “You two help her back to the wall,” he said, getting the attention of the thieves.

  She let go of her shoulder to grab his. Without her hand to hold it in place, the cloth there fell away to reveal the gruesome wound, blood now pouring freely from the hole. “That’s not all. There are many priests with him, and before I lost sight of the bridge, I saw the shadow men coming across.”

  He had hoped that the priests would not have left their temples, but they had planned for that as well. What was more frightening, though not unexpected, was that soon they would be forced to fight the shades in the dark. “It’s okay. You’re safe now, and soon you will be outside the city.”

  She smiled at h
im one more time before her eyes rolled back and she went limp. Laying her gently back to the ground, he placed a palm over her mouth and found that she no longer drew breath. He continued to stare at her in silence. Soon many more deaths would follow hers, but at this moment, he could take the time to recognize and mourn the loss – to remember that she had fought for their freedom, and had paid the greatest price for it. Her last act to warn them instead of saving herself.

  Moving his hands over her eyes, he gently closed them. “Move her somewhere out of the way. I don’t want her to burn. Perhaps when this is over someone will know why she died and give her a proper burial,” he said to the forms standing around him. Three of them reached down to lift her up as he stood back.

  “And get ready. Tonight, we make them pay for what they’ve done to her, for what they have done to all of us.”

  He did not expect it, but his words brought on a cheer from the surrounding buildings where men and women he could not see had watched and heard him. Even as the three thieves took the woman into the shadows and out of sight, a new sound reached the barricade, that of hundreds of men marching toward them.

  “Hold as long as you can, but do not throw your lives away. You know the plan. When the time comes, fall back to the wall,” he shouted.