Nightblade (The Tales of Ascadell Book 1)

by Jason Howard

  “My name is Captain Darius Ultimber. My men told me why you’re doing this. I respect your resolve. I sent a message to the king’s chief advisor, a conduit named Ivor.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I just don’t want to see you starve or freeze to death out here. Take this.”

  He handed Artem a gemstone.

  Artem blinked. “What is this for?”

  He took the smooth gemstone and looked down at its smooth blue surface.

  “You really don’t know?” Ultimber asked.

  Artem said, “I . . . I don’t want payment, I want—”

  “That’s a speaking stone. Ivor might use it to talk to you. That’s all he said, no promises. If he decides to talk to you—and he probably won’t—then it’ll be tonight.”

  “May the one true god bless you!” Artem said, rising. He wobbled as his vision swam.

  Ultimber reached out and steadied him.

  “Careful with that one true god talk. Here most people believe in the many gods.”

  Artem bowed his head in apology.

  “Tonight I want you to go to the Windy Dewdrop, it’s a tavern and inn nearby. I talked to the innkeeper and he’s going to let you stay there, and give you a couple hot meals. You have to pay though. Do you have money to pay?”

  Artem shook his head. “I have nothing . . . I could just stay here, it’s not a problem—”

  “It is a problem, you’ll die out here!”

  Artem was taken aback by Ultimber’s harsh concern.

  “Well . . .”

  “I warned the innkeeper that you might not have any money. That means you have to work for your room and board—cleaning the rooms, washing the linens, cleaning the bar, and other tasks of that nature. He’s a good man, you’ll get along.”

  “How does this work?” Artem asked, holding up the gemstone.

  Ultimber sighed impatiently. “It’s simple—you don’t even have to do anything. Ivor will be using the other stone. It’ll just seem like the stone is talking to you. Don’t be surprised if he contacts you late at night, he’s a busy man.”

  “Wait! What do I say?” Artem blurted out. He felt stupid for saying it, knowing immediately that Ultimber would be impatient with him. But to his surprise, Ultimber clapped him on the shoulder and looked him straight in the eyes.

  “If Ivor decides to contact you, he’ll probably want to help you out. He’s one of the kindest and fairest men in the king’s cabinet. Just be honest with him about whatever it is. If you’re polite and straightforward, and your request is reasonable, he’ll raise it with King Lanthos. What Lanthos does . . . well that’s . . .”

  Artem waited.

  “Lanthos is a fair man, but to be blunt, he’s not going to coddle you just because you have a problem and a sad story to go with it. I wish you luck . . . but don’t get your hopes up.”

  Artem nodded, and with that Ultimber led him into the city. When the gate opened, he breathed a sigh of relief.

  Artem smiled inside and thought of how funny it was that the simple act of walking through a gate gave him such elation.

  “Tell him where the Dewdrop is, I’ve got to run,” Ultimber said without breaking stride.

  “Yes sir,” the guards said, but when Ultimber was out of earshot they added, “If you do anything stupid, or try and take one of our civilized women, we’ll find you. The whole watch will be keeping an eye on you, dungskin.”

  Thanks for the welcome, Artem thought to himself. He was so glad to be in civilization. What a wonderful place it already seemed to be.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Honorbind

  –verb

  1. to channel a spell on a willing target which forces them to speak only the truth.

  The speaking stone was slightly warm in Cera’s hand. It was connected to a matching stone Roen had. She had stopped within view of the gates of Sal Zerone.

  “How did he get free?” Roen demanded through the stone.

  “He has some sort of beast with him—”

  “What beast?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “It’s this hideous looking lizard thing, it has these small stumpy arms, and these pathetic wings that can’t fly. It’s not that big, it looks like a young . . . whatever it is, and it—”

  “You were bested by a hideous looking baby lizard thing?”

  “Not bested! Somehow Zac freed himself while I was chasing the damn thing. I didn’t know the lizard was with him and—”

  “So a zell slave and a hideous lizard thing bested you?”

  “I believe you gave me this mission because he escaped from you in the first place, remember? He also mentioned that he spat in your face.”

  She left out the detail that Zac had said this after spitting in her face.

  Roen sighed. “Well what do you know about his whereabouts?”

  “I think he’s in Sal Zerone.”

  Roen laughed. “How do you plan on finding him in the biggest city in Ascadell?”

  “Finding him won’t be a problem. Capturing him in such a crowded place may prove more difficult though. I’ll have to be careful.”

  “Forget careful. Kill him on sight if you must. Leave his dead body cooling on the street. I don’t care how you do it, just send word when it’s done. I’ll have a mage honorbind you when you return so that we know it’s true.”

  Damn you. Why do you want him so bad?

  “What’s wrong?” Roen asked.

  “Wrong? Nothing. Honorbinding is a good way to do it, that way I don’t have to bother with taking a body part. Too bad you can’t just trust my word though.”

  “Your word? You’re a bounty hunter, your word is worth less than the paper I wipe my ass with.”

  “Well, I’m willing to submit to honorbinding, but I want extra pay for the return trip.”

  “Done.”

  “I have to go,” Cera said.

  “Good hunting.”

  Soon she would enter the city of Sal Zerone and find Zac. But first she had to do the spell she so hated. She took a deep breath. Screams leapt from her as her face morphed.

  She had five hours, and then she’d probably have to cast the spell again. It was never easy to find suitable hiding spots in Sal Zerone to do so. She pushed that worry away. She couldn’t spend all her energy now, because she would be channeling lots of charm spells soon enough. She walked toward the gates of Sal Zerone.

  ***

  After almost a full day she was finally getting closer to her quarry. She had learned from a guard that there had been an incident with a strange looking lizard creature a few days earlier and that there had been witnesses. She walked to the main entrance of the city. She found it amusing that she had backtracked here after all her searching.

  She walked up to man with a scraggly beard and stained tunic who had a cart for selling something. As she got closer she recoiled as she saw what it was.

  “Ahh, you’re a pretty one. Perhaps you’d like something exotic, an eagle eye—almost as beautiful as your own eyes . . . but not quite . . . your eyes look so delicious . . .”

  She faked a smile at the flirtatious tone of the repulsive eye seller.

  “Sure, I’d love an eagle eye,” she said, handing him the money.

  He reached into his coat and produced a small jar, uncorked it, and pulled out the pickled eagle eye. He handed it to her. She accepted it with a shudder, the slimy thing shedding its liquid into her palm.

  She said, “So, how did your shirt get stained like that—it seems like newt eye must have been the culprit.”

  He looked up at her in surprise. “Yes, yes. Newt eye. A horrible man with a horrible lizard caused me to spill it all over myself.”

  “Have you seen them since?” she asked.

  “Yes. He comes and goes each day. I’ve heard him talk to the guards about First Blood. He wants to be in the tournament. I always ask him if he wants to buy something, but he never does.”

  “Hmm. Do you know where he mi
ght be right now?”

  The eye seller squinted at her, starting to see that this wasn’t just a happenstance conversation.

  She concentrated hard for a moment and then a gentle charm spell wafted from her eyes and into his. Her brief connection with his mind made her shudder. She also felt the strain of switching between channels of magic. Cera’s Genuity, or magical ability, was so malleable she could switch between flesh, power, or mind magic. Only time magic eluded her.

  She tried to shake the putrid feeling that had filled her after touching the eye seller’s mind. It clung to her like a bad aroma.

  The eye seller said, “Yes, the guards kicked that lizard thing out of the city. Ultimber did, and he sent them into the woods. And every night the man goes out into the woods to make camp with the stupid lizard creature.”

  Her eyes lit up. “I must be going.”

  “Of course! Have a beautiful day, dear heart.”

  She turned and started heading for the gates.

  The eye seller yelled after her, “Wait! Can you eat the eagle eye in front of me? I would love to watch you eat. Please stay!”

  Once outside Sal Zerone’s gates, she looked out at the setting sun—it was red against the horizon, bleeding up into the heavens.

  ***

  Her face was slowly melting back into shape, but it didn’t matter now that she was in the woods outside Sal Zerone. Using a few tracking spells, she had picked up Zac’s trail, and was fast closing on the camp. She forced herself to be careful. She wouldn’t underestimate the cunning of her prey this time. She had enchanted herself so that she wore no scent—the little lizard creature wouldn’t be able to smell her coming. Someone else might have been heard, but Cera was an experienced sneak. When she chose to, she could be as silent as death.

  The blood-red horizon was purpling. Soon it would be dark out. But she wasn’t going to wait till then. She heard him before she saw him. He was chopping into a tree as a cookfire crackled in the small clearing where he’d made camp. She hid behind a tree trunk and watched him. She saw his slave brand reaching up his arm. For a moment she regretted what she had to do. But then she noticed Hessia grazing on some grass at the far side of the little camp. My horse!

  She threw a stun spell at Zac. He went rigid for a moment before collapsing to the ground. She ran into the camp and ripped the front of the tent asunder with a wind spell. This revealed Althos, just waking up. She incapacitated him with another stun spell. She immediately started tying Zac with thick rope. He was semi-conscious, but had lost his ability to move his limbs.

  “Hey, Cera,” he said calmly.

  “Hey, Zac.”

  They both looked at each other with smug expressions. Cera’s broke into confusion a moment later, and she said, “I wouldn’t be smirking if I was tied up and paralyzed.”

  He shrugged. “I’m smirking because of the City Guardsmen standing behind you.”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  There was a whizzing noise and a small dart hit her in the neck. She plucked the dart away with wide eyes. She realized immediately that it was tipped with an enchanted serum. Lavendersmile.

  She sunk to her knees, falling asleep. A pair of chainmail clad city Guardsmen rushed from the trees and slapped handcuffs over her wrists.

  “You are now subject to punishment by the crown of Ascadell for your crimes against the kingdom,” one of them said.

  Cera wasn’t looking at them. She was glaring at Zac. “You . . . bilching . . . chulgar . . .”

  Zac smiled as one of the guards cut the rope around his wrists free. He stood shakily, the stun spell still lingering in his nervous system. “I guess this is the last I’ll see you. Best of luck.”

  She scowled at him. There it was, the exact scowl from the wanted poster. Her powerful eyes mesmerized him.

  “No. This isn’t the last . . . you’ll see me . . . chulgar.”

  And then she fell asleep. A soft smile came to her face as the lavendersmile took hold.

  Zac tried to fight off the gentle chill—her smile was so beautiful. It was the first time he’d ever seen it. Zac turned to the city guardsmen.

  “So you’ve been following me?” Zac asked.

  “On Captain Darius Ultimber’s orders,” one of them replied. “A guardsmen told him about your story and convinced him it was true.”

  “Was it the guy with the scar from here to here?” Zac said, drawing a finger from his temple to his chin.”

  “It was.”

  “When you see him tell him I give my thanks,” Zac said. “And Captain Ultimber too.”

  They nodded. One of the guards handed Zac a sack of gold coins and a small piece of parchment. The parchment had been stamped with the Seal of the City Guard, which was an ornately calligraphed C and G. There was also a description of Althos written on it and Ultimber’s signature.

  “That’s a permit for Althos to enter the city with you.”

  Zac’s eyes widened. “Thank you!”

  “Thank you for your service to Ascadell and mighty

  King Lanthos.”

  With that they turned and carried Cera away.

  ‘Ow! Zac, can you please help me stand up. I think she hit me with a lightning bolt.’

  Zac laughed. ‘It was just a stunning spell, you little bilcher.’

  He headed to the tent where he helped Althos get shakily to his feet.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lavendersmile Serum

  A rare serum that skilled alchemists can make from crushed lavender petals, strong enchantments, and a few drops of rum. The first effect of the serum silences mages, disabling them from using spells for a short time. The second effect makes them drunk and sleepy. Before the magical silence effect wears off, the mage will be asleep. Many mages have woken from the wonderful dreams of lavendersmile to realize their imprisonment. Their smiles quickly vanish.

  The speaking stone came to life in the early hours of the evening. Artem was, of course, awake. He had kept the thing on his pillow, close to his ear, because he was afraid he’d miss Ivor’s voice—but quite the opposite, the voice came through loud and powerful, and startled Artem to a sitting position.

  “Hello, are you the foreigner Ultimber told me about?”

  “Yes—my name is Artem Remelda. I’m from the Ajaltans, and from Chieftan Rakala Remelda’s tribe—he was my father.”

  “Well, I am pleased to make your acquaintance! Now . . . did you say was? If so, then I’m terribly sorry to hear that.”

  “Yes . . . he was killed by soldiers wearing black armor and the red mark of a black widow on their shields and chestplates.”

  “We’ve heard reports of these soldiers before. They’ve been raiding settlements at the fringes Ascadell.”

  “So . . . we must put a stop to them,” Artem said. “I would gladly help you hunt them down. I have knowledge of the area, tracking skills—”

  “But do you have concrete information of where they are going next? Are you sure they’ll stay in the region?”

  “No. But if they strike at another tribe, we’ll be able to pick up the trail. I think they will.”

  “I don’t know what the King will say. The mission will be very costly. Transporting the men, weapons, and supplies, and waiting for them to strike again . . and since the Ajaltan Tribes aren’t part of the Kingdom of Ascadell . . .”

  Artem said nothing.

  “But I will do my best to convince him of the necessity.”

  “And mention that my last name is Remelda. My father met King Lanthos during the war. They fought together.”

  “So they were friends?”

  Artem shook his head, but then remembered that Ivor couldn’t see him. Talking to a stone was so strange. “They were allies that held mutual respect for each other. They fought many battles together, but sometimes had their differences. Especially after the war when my father and the other Chieftains refused to take Lanthos as their King.”

  “Thank you,” Ivor said. “I’ll bring a
ll of this to the attention of the King. You will hear back soon or not at all.”

  ***

  An hour later there was a knock on Artem’s door. He had been carving a figurine from a hunk of wood to pass the time until drifting into a light sleep. The figurine lay in his lap, slowly coming into focus as he re-entered woke up. Another knock at the door. When he opened it a man with a reddish-brown beard was standing there, chainmail glimmering orange in the torchlight of the hallway.

  “Rigel Redbeard at your service.”

  Artem blinked. “What? Who, I mean, why are you here?”

  The man was smiling. “Come on, Arty, King Lanthos wants to see you. Let’s get you to the castle.”

  Artem was annoyed by the man calling him Arty but let it pass. He shook his head and said, “I’m not a fool. It’s almost morning, the king will be asleep—”

  “This is your only chance to see him. The king can’t fit you into his regular schedule, but he’s having trouble sleeping, so you’re in luck.”

  Artem rubbed a hand across his chin to get rid of some drool and said, “Let me get dressed.”

  The walk through the city at night was a surreal experience for Artem. Oil lamps hung on both sides of the cobblestone streets. People milled around as if it were midday. Artem heard a wild scream from somewhere. He whirled, pulling out his halberd.

  “Relax. Just some drunkard. The Dirty Archer is over there.”

  Artem looked at him blankly.

  “A bar. You know, a place where people are allowed to act stupid.”

  Artem was still puzzled.

  “Where people drink until they stumble around and act like animals.”

  “Why would people—”

  “You don’t have bars? Well, I guess you’re not missing out on much. But I’ll have to take you to get a drink sometime.”

  “You just said I was not missing out on much.”