“That’s what Illan intends to find out. Losing livestock is one thing, but we can’t have our people up and disappearing.”
“Hope he finds them,” Father Keller said.
“He will.”
“What about Lord Cytok? I know he would like nothing more than to see me dead.” Lord Cytok had been second only to the Emperor prior to the arrival of James. Afterward, his influence had been greatly diminished.
Returning his gaze to James, Ceadric nodded. “That is true. However, the territory he controls is beset on three sides by rivals seeking to seize his lands for themselves. Even if he wanted to seek vengeance, he simply does not have the resources to spare.”
“That is what I thought.”
“Is this why you wished to meet with me? To see if The Empire was behind the attack?”
“In part, yes. But right now, there is a matter of more pressing urgency.”
Ceadric raised his eyebrows questioningly when James paused.
“The City Watch has Scar and Potbelly along with two others of our company.”
The Raider Captain rolled his eyes. “What did those two do this time?”
“Nothing that would warrant their arrest,” Miko replied. “This is an old score between the Watch Commander and them.”
“Well, they should think twice before absconding with men in his command.”
“We would like you to intervene and get them out for us.”
Ceadric sighed. “That isn’t as easy as one might think.”
“Why?”
“For one thing, the City Watch doesn’t report to Black Hawk, but to the City Council.”
Jira came off the bed. “Can’t you do anything?”
Giving her a smile and tousling her hair, he replied, “Perhaps I can,” then returned his attention to James. “I take it you are not planning on doing anything?”
James shook his head. “I could, but that might alert those who attacked the island that I was in the area. It would be best if this could be handled on a local level.”
“I concur. How long ago were they taken?”
“Several hours.”
“Hmm.” Coming to his feet, Ceadric said, “I best be going then. I’ll see what I can do.” Pausing at the door, he turned back toward James. “I’m glad you’re back.”
“So am I.”
After Ceadric departed, James turned to Jiron. “Do you think he can get them out?”
“If not, we’ll have no choice but to go in and get them ourselves.”
James sighed, then nodded.
Not far from the eatery, half a score men ready for battle waited. Ceadric had positioned them within earshot should a quick rescue be warranted. Fortunately for all concerned, the Raider Captain emerged safely.
“Some friends are being held at the City Jail.”
Jorl, a Raider Captain of many years and one of Ceadric’s long-time comrades, grinned. “Trouble, do you think?”
Ceadric nodded. “Without Black Hawk here at the Aerie, things could get dicey.”
Another soldier snorted. “About time we did something about the Guard. They’re a bunch of rogues and tavern-idlers if you ask me.” Several others grunted in agreement.
“Who do they have?”
Glancing to his men, Ceadric replied, “Friends.” His tone indicated that was all he planned to say. “From what I understand, the Watch Commander has an old score to settle with them.”
Pointing to two of the younger Raiders, he said, “Run to The Rusty Scabbard and see how many of our men you can find. Take position in the back and waylay any guards that might be returning to the Jail. You have ten minutes.”
“Yes, sir,” they said with a nod and raced off to carry out their orders.
Six more Raiders were sent to other nearby haunts. When it was down to himself, Jorl and three others, Ceadric indicated for them to join him and headed toward the Jail.
En route, they picked up another three Raiders. When they drew within sight of the Jail, he set four to watch the avenue. He, Jorl and two of the more veteran of the newer Raiders proceeded at a leisurely pace toward the entrance. Two torches sitting one to either side of the door bathed the area in light. Ceadric came to a halt before entering their field of luminescence.
From within, they heard a man cry out and another shouting.
“Torturing them do you think?”
Ceadric glanced to his man. “Let’s hope not.” He feared what The Dark Mage might do should he be unable to diffuse the situation.
“Shall we go in?”
Shaking his head, the Raider Captain replied, “No. We’ll wait for our men to arrive.”
A great cry went up from within.
“Something’s going on,” one of his men said.
Jorl tried to pierce the shuttered windows for a clue as to what. “Might be the other prisoners.”
Ceadric shrugged. “If so, that’s their problem.”
His attention was drawn to the sound of someone approaching. From out of the darkened street, one of the men sent to gather others appeared.
“Three score men are moving into position, sir.”
“Good. Tell them to hold position and move only on my command. Should any guards return to the jail, detain them.”
“Yes, sir.” Saluting, the man turned smartly about and raced back into the darkness.
“Now?” Jorl asked.
Ceadric nodded. “Let’s go.”
Jorl kept to his right while the other two Raiders followed behind. As they entered the glow of the torches, shouting once again erupted and this time, there was the unmistakable clang of metal striking metal.
Ceadric drew his sword and rushed the steps.
Jorl spied one of their men at the corner of the building as his sword leapt to hand and moved to follow his Captain. He signaled to the Raider for those lying in wait to swarm the building.
Hitting the door with his shoulder, Ceadric rushed into a scene of utter mayhem. Tables lay smashed, chairs broken, and nearly two-thirds score men lay strewn about the floor; some moaned, others moved not at all.
Six men remained upright. One was pinned to the wall, a knife piercing his hand kept him firmly in place. Two others were busy tossing a uniformed man into a nearby cell. Of the three left, one wore the uniform of the Watch Commander. A two-foot jagged piece of broken staff pressed painfully against his neck.
The man holding it turned toward Ceadric as he entered. “About time you got here.”
Tinok smiled not at all as he returned his gaze to the Watch Commander. He put additional pressure on the broken staff-end and the Watch Commander winced. A drop of blood trickled from the point of contact.
Scar stood next to Tinok with sword in hand and wearing a big grin. The grin vanished when armed men rushed in from the back and through the front. He readied to meet the charge.
“Hold!”
Ceadric’s shout brought his men to a halt.
Potbelly and Shorty stood back to back before a cell containing six unconscious men wearing Guard uniforms, one of which had recently been cast ignominiously upon his comrades. The former bore a sword while the latter held a knife in each hand.
A Raider eyed the situation then turned a questioning gaze to Ceadric, “Sir?”
“Ceadric, seize…”
Tinok cut off the rest of the Watch Commander’s words by asserting additional pressure upon the broken staff-end. The trickle of blood had now soaked a copper’s sized spot on the Commander’s collar.
Jorl kept sword in hand as he glanced to his Captain.
“Take the men and ensure we are not disturbed until our business here has been concluded.”
“As you wish, sir.”
Sheathing his sword, Jorl ordered the men back to their positions outside. Snickers and rude comments directed at the Watch for being taken out even when outnumbering their opponents turned the Watch Commanders face red with anger.
Ceadric’s gaze never wavered from Tinok and the
Watch Commander. “I think you can lower that now.”
“Are you sure?” Scar asked.
“Yeah,” chimed in Potbelly from where he and Shorty were picking up a seventh unconscious guard to add to the pile within the cell. “He might kill us all.” At which Shorty and Scar gave out with loud guffaws.
Coming to stand next to Tinok, Ceadric laid a hand on the arm holding the broken staff. “That’s enough.”
There was something in the pit fighter’s eyes that gave the Raider Captain pause. For a moment, he worried the jagged end might just as easily go up and through the Watch Commander’s throat, as go down. When Tinok lowered the broken staff, Ceadric breathed an inward sigh of relief.
“Call your men back, Ceadric!” ordered the Watch Commander. “These men are criminals and are to be held, tried, and executed!” Scar’s laughter only increased the red-faced Commander’s rage.
Ceadric failed to respond. Instead, he took a good look at the bodies lying about the floor. “Anyone dead?”
Scar stepped over a fellow writhing upon the floor with arm clutched to chest, and came to stand next to the Raider Captain. “I don’t think so.”
“So, what happened?”
Nodding toward the Watch Commander, Scar replied, “He wasn’t content to merely hold us.”
“Torture?”
“Of a sort. We were more than happy to go along until this could be sorted out. But when two guards started tying Potbelly to the bars and a third approached with a cudgel, we had to act.”
“Do something, Ceadric!” the Watch Commander exclaimed.
Turning toward the man, the Raider Captain shrugged. “Aren’t you forever telling us to stay out of your business? That what happens within Al-Ziron is your province and that we should, how did you put it, keep our bastard, Raider noses out of it?”
Shorty came up behind the Commander and pressed a knife point against his ribs. He gestured to a nearby cell. “This way, Commander.”
The Watch Commander refused to move at first, but when Shorty’s blade pressed painfully into his side, he acceded to the command and entered the cell.
Tinok remained quiet and off to the side; the broken staff-end still in his hand. His eyes stared toward nothing in particular. It wasn’t until the Commander had been locked within one of his own cells and Shorty tapped him on the shoulder that he returned to the here and now.
“Give us a hand with the others?”
Glancing to the knifer, Tinok nodded and proceeded to aid Potbelly and Shorty in transferring the rest of the guards to cells. He was neither gentle nor rough, merely methodical.
“How did you know we were here?”
Ceadric glanced first to Scar, then over to where the Watch Commander stewed in his own cell. “I got word from someone who saw you being taken. For all that you’ve done for Madoc, I couldn’t leave you to the Commander’s tender mercies.” Returning his attention to Scar, he gave the barest of grins as he said, “But it would seem my intervention was not needed.”
Chuckling, Scar nodded. “We waded through them like they were babes in the woods. None would last a moment in the Pits.” Raising his voice so the Watch Commander would hear, he added, “Don’t worry about us ever returning to recruit your men. They’re worthless.”
The Watch Commander merely glowered at him, his expression one of promised retribution.
“Are you going to get into trouble over this?”
Ceadric shrugged. “Only if they are willing to stand up to Black Hawk.”
Scar laughed. “Then…I doubt it.”
With the clanging of a cell door’s closure, Potbelly, Tinok and Shorty joined them. Three cells were now full of guards, both conscious and otherwise.
Their swords, knives, and other equipment lay in a heap where it had been knocked to the floor during the fight. Once they reclaimed their items, they passed through to the back of the Jail to the stable holding their mounts.
Keeping his voice low, Ceadric asked Scar, “You don’t know what’s going on, do you?”
Scar shook his head. “Not a clue. He wouldn’t tell us anything. I do know, though, that we’re headed for the Empire.”
That caused the Raider Captain’s eyebrows to arch. “The Empire?”
“So it seems.”
“Why?”
Scar shrugged then set the saddle in place and cinched the straps. “We’ll find out soon enough.”
Tinok was first to mount and waited near the doorway leading to the small courtyard. He gazed silently into the darkness beyond.
Ceadric nodded in the pit fighter’s direction. “Is he okay?”
Scar took a moment to answer. “No, though I don’t know what’s wrong. He rarely speaks anymore; lets his knives do the talking for him you might say. To be honest, I’m surprised there weren’t any corpses tonight.
“He was the one that started it. When the guard raised a staff the length of my arm with the width of an owl’s egg, and made ready to strike Potbelly, Tinok was there before the first blow landed. How he slipped out of his bonds, I don’t know but before anyone could react, he had possession of the staff, broke it in half, and then used the two ends like clubs.
“A guard fell near me and I got his knife and cut my bonds, then freed Shorty and Potbelly. The rest you know.”
Ceadric gazed upon Tinok with wonder. “Two halves of a broken staff and he takes out half a score?”
“Well, me, Potbelly, and Shorty helped too. But yeah; he had half of them out cold before we could join the fray.”
Potbelly had mounted and rode over to them. “What Scar said earlier was spot on. They weren’t that good. In fact, most were fumble-headed idiots.”
“True enough,” added Shorty. Mounted and ready to depart, he rode past and went to wait with Tinok. They spoke quietly together.
After a quick glance to ensure they were the only ones in the stable, Ceadric moved close to Scar and whispered, “You’ll find them at The Rusty Cauldron.”
There was no need to elaborate further on who Ceadric meant. Without replying, Scar swung up onto his horse.
“My thanks, Captain.”
Ceadric cracked a grin. “Any excuse to rattle the Watch Commander.”
Scar laughed as did Potbelly.
At The Rusty Cauldron, Kip and Father Vickor waited outside.
At sight of their comrade’s approach, Kip returned within the inn while Father Vickor remained to greet the new arrivals, explaining that the others would be down shortly.
“We’re getting out of here, right?” Potbelly asked.
The priest nodded. “The horses are saddled and our equipment secured. As soon as the others join us, we head west.”
Scar grew puzzled. “West? I thought our road led to the south.”
“Lord Black Hawk is to the west, and he still desires to speak with him before turning south.”
A hooded James and Jiron emerged through the door with a diminutive cloaked form between them. Miko and Father Keller followed. Jira peered out from beneath her hood and flashed her Uncle Scar and Uncle Potbelly a grin.
Scar replied with a grin of his own.
Potbelly gave her a wave.
In silence, the group went around back to the stables and soon left the town of Al-Ziron behind.
Chapter Twelve
It took half an hour of southward travel before reaching the road cutting east-west across the northern no-man’s land between The Empire and Madoc. Taking it westward, they crossed the Ti-Migala River.
A thin copse of trees several miles from the river proved a somewhat suitable place to make camp. Jiron set the order of watch. Everyone, including Kip, took a turn. Of course, Kip’s scheduled time overlapped both Fathers Keller and Vickor. Even though they were not within the Temple back in the City of Light, instructions in the faith continued; much to the lad’s chagrin.
Father Keller stood before a kneeling Kip.
“Try again.”
Kip closed his eyes and strove to
find what Father Keller had called “the connection.”
“Typically, young Kip, you would not have reached this point so early in your studies. Recent events, however, have made it essential that you be able to call upon the power of Morcyth.
“Clear your mind of everything save your devotion. Think upon your desire to serve and follow the tenets set down by the Reverend Father, and the connection will come.”
An hour now had been spent in fruitless searching for the elusive connection. Kip hadn’t a clue what to search for and the ever repeated “It will come” held little instruction how to find it.
Okay, Morcyth. Here I am, ready to serve.
Errant thoughts intruded upon the serenity he strove to create in his mind. He would banish one to the nether recesses of his consciousness only to have an equally disruptive one replace it.
White light enveloped Father Keller. “Can you feel it, young Kip? For those who open themselves to it, the power of Morcyth will come.”
Easy for you to say, and do, for that matter. How am I ever to find what can’t be found? What if the reason I can’t make the connection is that Morcyth has deemed me unworthy? Feelings of nervousness and embarrassment kept his mind from forming the peace Father Keller insisted was necessary to link with their god.
Minutes passed and he was no closer to his goal.
“It can be hard, especially the first time.”
Kip opened his eyes and raised his head to glance at the brawler-turned-priest before him. His worry and doubt must have been clearly written across his face for Father Keller favored him with a kindly smile.
“Fear not, you will find it when the time is right. And only our Lord Morcyth knows when that will be.”
From nearby, Kip heard a chuckle. It was Father Vickor watching them from his bedroll.
“Tell him when it came to you.”
Father Keller’s face reddened and gave his fellow priest a disapproving look. “It’s another hour until your turn. Go back to sleep.”
Sighing, Father Vickor sat up. Brushing an errant strand of dark hair back into place, he said, “Doubt if I could sleep now anyway.”
Kip glanced from one to the other. Father Vickor appeared unusually amused while Father Keller’s expression hadn’t softened in the slightest.
Tides of Faith: Travail of The Dark Mage Book Two Page 15
