Sheeva shifted in her seat ever so slightly as Kellen paused to take another sip of his cider. “Well, to make a long story short, my grandfather had grown up hearing the scary tales of the Night Walkers, but he just couldn’t bring himself to leave the man there to bleed out, so he managed to build a sleigh with thick palmetto leaves and drag the man back to a small cabin he occasionally used on his longer treks. It took three days before the night walker’s fever broke and his breathing steadied. He had several knife wounds, some cracked ribs, a broken arm, and what looked to be deep bites in the bottom of one leg from a steel bear trap.”
Kellen took another slow pull on his tankard, not wanting to rush the story. “My great-great-grandfather had lost his first wife in a raid, so he had plenty of time to help nurse the man back to health again. Living on his own like he did, he probably enjoyed the company.
“It took at least a week before the Walker would say more than two words, and even longer still to get a complete sentence out of him. But, with time and trust, he eventually opened up. The man said his name was Arnoni. With a simple crutch, my grandfather constructed out of a large limb, the two of them spent hours walking through the forest discussing the similarities of their lives. My grandfather told of his family and the tragedy they had endured, while Arnoni told of how he had come to be snared by one of the poacher’s traps.”
Kellen could tell Sheeva was rather entranced in the telling and wondered what life experiences had brought her, a Night Walker, to live as an assassin. “It was during one of those long walks that Arnoni told my grandfather of the Night Walkers and their origins. He told of how they had been created near the end of the Second Age at the height of man’s use of magic. How their blood had been mixed with that of dragons, or some such creature which had come through the tear between realms, along with the fae, in an attempt to create the perfect soldiers for the wizard’s armies.
“He also confessed that after centuries of being used as warriors and assassins, his people had eventually turned on their masters and fled to the mountains, vowing never to use their abilities for killing again.”
Kellen finished the rest of his cider with a short swallow, giving Sheeva time to process the expanse of knowledge he possessed of her people. Her eyes betrayed both anger and guilt. “It was at that time, Arnoni gave my grandfather the amulet,” Kellen said as he slid his fingers around the silver chain and lifted it to take a closer look. The amulet dangled provocatively between the two. “He told him it was a life-bond between them, and it signified the bearer as a friend and brother of the Night Walkers.”
“It’s a lovely story,” Sheeva said rather coldly, retaining her perfect pose, “but for all I know your father was the poacher, and after killing Arnoni, took the amulet for himself.”
“Well, as we both know, the amulet can only be given, and never taken, or it loses its translucence.” Sheeva’s eyes narrowed slightly. Kellen placed the amulet back around his neck and tucked it safely under his tunic. Sheeva watched, with a hint of longing, as the jewel slid underneath his garment and out of sight.
“I see you know your lore, Master Kellen. And when do you plan on sharing this information with the others?”
Kellen leaned back in his chair and smiled. “I won’t . . . if you can tell me a story in return.”
Sheeva glared. “What do you want to hear?”
“I want to know why a Night Walker has forsaken her path and is now selling her services to the highest bidder.”
Sheeva lowered her eyes to the table. “I had a twin brother.” She took a deep breath and didn’t say anything for an uncomfortable amount of time. Kellen was wondering if maybe he had pushed a little too hard when she finally continued. “Some hunters found him playing in the woods, and recognizing him for what he was, they thought they’d have some fun with him. So they gave him a head start and then hunted him down like an animal.”
Sheeva’s voice quivered. Kellen could see her anger swelling. “I found him two days later. They had hung him from a tree and gutted him like a deer.” Kellen closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath himself. His stomach turned uncomfortably at the image.
“I tracked them for three weeks through the Slags to a city called Norshag at the foothills of the Northern Heights. I spent days watching them, studying them—their movements, their habits, where they liked to eat, where they spent their evenings drinking, and their nights carousing. I knew them better than they knew themselves. And I used it against them.
“With the first one, I slipped a very painful toxin called hemporvine in his evening meal. It’s a slow and excruciatingly painful way to die. I sat with him in his room for hours, feigning to be a physicker of rare herbs, while wiping the sweat from his brow as the poison devoured his insides.
“The second man was the first’s younger brother. And he wasn’t exactly all there in the head if you know what I mean. I took mercy on him and slid my blade through the back of his neck while he slept.”
“The third man, though, I saved for last. He was a cruel sort of creature. Every night he would visit the same whorehouse to claim the kind of attention he could never receive from any respectable woman. By the time his activities were finished, the poor girls were left bloody from vicious beatings.
“One of those nights, I managed to switch places with one of them. She thanked me profusely and left the room in a hurry.” Kellen was starting to worry where this was heading, and hoped for her sake, and his, she had not taken her role-playing to the extreme.
“I waited until he had stripped himself and was demanding my full attention before I gave it to him. I spread his arms and legs and restrained them to the bedposts. The pig thought it all quite exciting.” Sheeva’s smile was disturbing at best. “It wasn’t until I had him good and bound that I revealed to him who I was, and who my brother had been. The look on his face held somewhere between confusion and arousal. His teeth were bared and he actually growled at me.” She cocked her head to the side. “I don’t think he realized what was about to happen, that is, until I raised my blade and made the first incision.
“I took my time with him. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard such colorful examples of language as what poured from his mouth when I started with a simple castration. After passing out a few times and being revived with a bottle of hartshorn, his language went from something coherent to mere garbles, and spats, and screams. I worked my way up from there.” She leaned forward and let her elbows rest on the table in front of her. “I am quite skilled with a knife, you know.” Her face had once again retaken the emotionless state he was used to seeing. Kellen figured it must be a survival trait.
Kellen didn’t know if he should be impressed, or horrified.
“As you can imagine, because of my actions I was no longer allowed to return home. So now I do what I’ve found I’m good at—killing.” She looked back down at the table and studied the chipped edges. “How’s that for irony? I tracked down and killed the three men who murdered my brother, and then took their place.”
They sat in silence for a moment. Kellen wasn’t quite sure what to say. “If there is one lesson I have always tried to impart to my children,” he said, “it is this. With every choice there comes a consequence, and we have to be willing to live with the ones we make and, hopefully, learn from them.”
She regarded him with an unreadable stare. “I’ve never taken a mark that didn’t deserve it. I know that’s not a justification, but maybe more of a clarification as to what little honor I still have. When I realized my latest target was nothing more than a young girl with wielder abilities, who, because of the way she was born, threatened a powerful man, I took her and ran.”
“Where is she now?”
“I left her in Master Veldon’s care. The kind of life I live doesn’t lend itself to children.”
“Then maybe it’s time to consider a change?”
Sheeva didn’t respond. She stared at him a moment and then glanced back down at the table,
clearly not wanting to maintain eye contact any longer. She was hopefully contemplating what he had suggested. Whether she would take it to heart, though, was an entirely different matter.
“Well, Sheeva, it was nice talking with you.” He pushed his seat back and rose from the table. “I hope you plan on sticking around for a while.” He nodded and then turned and headed for the front doors. He could feel her eyes on his back as he crossed the room.
Once outside, with the doors shut firmly behind him, Kellen shook his head. “Well, that was . . . intense.”
“Ah, just the man I was looking for.”
Kellen turned around. His back stiffened at the sight of three men stepping out from around the other side of the Inn. Their white mantles rustled in the early afternoon breeze as they approached. Kellen crossed his arms, letting his hand slowly slide beneath the front flap of his overcoat. His fingers slid around the handle of his largest blade as he waited.
“I’ve been told you’re the man I need to see concerning a forest guide.”
Kellen released his grip on the concealed knife and withdrew his hand. “I’m the overlord’s gamekeeper,” he said as the men stopped a few steps away. “The name’s Kellen.”
The large man at the front regarded Kellen with a scrutinizing gaze. “Aye, you have the look of a hunter.” The Tower guard ran his hand down his dark goatee. “My name is Captain Hatch, and as I said, we’re in need of someone who knows their way around these woods. We’ve been instructed to search the city and surrounding countryside for wielders, or those harboring them. Do you have a horse?”
Kellen glanced to his left where Your Highness stood watching them with a strong air of indifference. “I do.”
“Good. Make yourself available this afternoon. Be at the barracks in an hour.”
Kellen held his emotions in check. “Yes, sir.” He offered a respectful bow. “I would be more than happy to assist our Black Watch protectors with anything they need.”
Hatch studied Kellen’s face. The captain was clearly a cautious man. Satisfied by what he must have seen, Hatch turned and walked away. His subordinates flanked him as he went.
Kellen left Your Highness in front of the inn and quickly made his way across River Street. This might be the break they had been looking for. He needed to let the council know to be ready.
Chapter 17 | Kellen
AN HOUR LATER, Kellen rode through the front gates of the Easthaven Barracks. After tying off Your Highness, he scanned the buildings for any signs of the Black Watch. There were a few armsmen wearing the green and yellow livery of the Sidaran Lancers scattered around the outer buildings, but no sign of the white riders anywhere. Kellen stepped into the main barracks’ offices.
An elderly guard lifted his head from where he was busy fussing over some papers at his desk. “How can I help you, sir?”
“My name is Kellen, and I have a meeting with Captain Hatch.” Kellen glanced around the empty waiting room. With winter approaching, most of the Sidaran Lancers had already gone home to be with their families. A small regiment of men from Easthaven were kept on duty as they rotated assignments during the colder months from Èshan to Nùwen.
It had been a long time since the Kingdom of Sidara had been required to recall its troops. Kellen couldn’t help but wonder if such complacency would eventually be their downfall.
The guard laid his quill across a stack of loose parchment on which he had been scribbling. “I’ll see if the captain is available.” He gestured to an empty bench along the adjacent wall. “It shouldn’t take long.”
Kellen thanked him and took a seat.
The guard marched down the back hallway and knocked on the last door on the left. Not waiting for a reply, he stuck his head inside. Kellen couldn’t quite make out what the man was saying, but he did hear his name mentioned somewhere in the conversation. The officer closed the door and returned to the lobby area where he plopped himself back on his stool. “The captain will see you now.”
Kellen left the sitting room and walked down one of the back corridors. Bracketed torches lined the stone walls to either side as he made his way to the last door on the left. He knocked and waited for a reply.
“Come.”
Kellen opened the door and stepped inside. The room was rather plain for an office, not much more than a desk, three chairs, a small shelf, and a window that had filmed over from lack of proper cleaning.
“Right on time, I see,” Hatch said. “I like that.” The captain pushed his disorderly fall of brown hair from his eyes as he leaned back in his chair. “It shows a strong moral character. I believe you can tell a lot about a man by his time of arrival. For example . . .” He tapped his fingers on the desk in front of him. “Arriving late shows a total lack of respect for the other party as well as a lazy and self-indulgent attitude. However,” he said, raising his finger to emphasize what he was saying, “a man who arrives too early demonstrates fanaticism, which leads me to believe they are either eager to get our business over with, or they are attempting to curry favor by overcompensating.” Hatch leaned forward. “But, a man that shows up precisely when he is expected validates my belief in his attention to instruction.” He dotted the end of his speech by rapping his knuckles on the wood.
Kellen conceded with a nod. Hatch had obviously given the subject some considerable thought, and he didn’t want to appear less than lackluster about the man’s well-thought-out argument.
The captain studied Kellen a moment longer before rising from his seat to grab a large piece of rolled parchment from the top of a nearby shelf. He spread it out on his desk and used a few random items to hold it in place. Kellen glanced at the thick material and recognized it as a map of the southeastern section of Sidara, including Easthaven and its surrounding countryside.
“This is where we’ve searched so far.” Hatch circled a couple places on the map with his finger, which included territory as far west of Easthaven as Reed Marsh, and as far south as the border between Sidara and Briston. “How familiar are you with this territory here?” He pointed to the woods in between Reed Marsh and the southernmost side of Crystal Lake.
“Very familiar,” Kellen said. He had been raised in those woods his entire life. He had taken on the role of the overlord’s gamekeeper after his father’s mysterious disappearance back when Kellen was no older than Breen. He knew the land like the back of his hand.
“Good. We’ll leave after lunch then,” Hatch said, excitement flickering across his face.
After a quick meal, seven of the original ten riders were mounted and making their way through the barracks’ north gate with Kellen riding alongside Hatch at the front. They rode north along a pre-determined search grid Kellen had designed to meet the captain’s strict specifications. Thankfully, he knew the surrounding area and those who were settled there, which gave him the advantage of steering the troop away from any qualified suspects they might find of interest.
“I thought there were ten of you?”
“Three of them have been assigned to our prisoner.”
“Three men just to watch one bound woman?”
Hatch stiffened in his saddle as he turned to look at Kellen. “And how did you know it was a woman?”
Kellen’s stomach tightened and his mind raced for a plausible explanation. He attempted to laugh it off. “Captain, even a city our size would be hard-pressed to miss a contingent of the Tower’s guards riding through, especially when they’re escorting a young woman as their prisoner. We might be the capital city of Sidara but gossip still travels faster than a race horse around here.”
The answer seemed to appease the captain as he shifted his attention back to the front.
“I still don’t see how someone as small as she is could be so dangerous.” Kellen was trying his best to appear ignorant to matters concerning the ven’ae. He needed to coax the good captain into revealing something useful for the council to use in Saleena’s rescue.
“I see you have never run into a wi
elder before,” Hatch scoffed, glancing sideways at Kellen. “Thank your Creator for that. I’ve seen a single wielder take down an entire company of battle-hardened armsmen without so much as breaking a sweat.”
“How is that possible?”
“They call on the powers of the Defiler, of course. They’re all full of dark spirits, and it’s our job to weed them out through purging.”
“Purging?” Kellen cleared his throat. “I hate to sound like a backwoods simpleton, Captain, but what exactly is this purging you speak of?”
Hatch gave Kellen a beleaguering look of astonishment. “Easthaven might not be the largest capital city in the five kingdoms, but surely it’s not so small as to be completely ignorant of the White Tower and its mission?”
“I beg your pardon, Captain, I did not intend to imply I knew nothing of the Tower or its benefit to our land, of course. But I was just unfamiliar with this term of purging.”
“Ah, I see. Well, the purging is just another name The White Tower uses for the process they put the wielders through to extricate them from their dark spirits, giving them a chance to then live a normal life.”
“That sounds . . . interesting.” Kellen’s curiosity was piqued. “How does it work?”
Hatch scratched at the dark hair on his chin. “Well, I’m not exactly sure. That’s the job of the Legate and the Arch Chancellor. I’m just here to round them up. Anything after that is above my purview.”
“Hmm?” Kellen pondered his musings out loud as he tried to keep the conversation flowing. “Have you ever seen a wielder return home after this purging process has been completed?”
Hatch was about to reply, but held back. He twisted the leather straps of his reins around in his gloved hands. Kellen could see he had caught the man off guard. “No,” he finally replied. “I guess not. But that’s no surprise, since we spend most of our days out in the field. It’s not my job to keep up with them after I’ve turned them over to the Tower. That responsibility belongs to someone else.”
The White Tower (The Aldoran Chronicles: Book 1) Page 14
