The Sleeping God (The Disinherited Prince Series Book 4)

by Guy Antibes

  The thief smiled. “I am.” He rubbed dirty hands. “There might be a way we can avoid any unpleasantness.”

  “How about a South Salvan Lion for a pass from here to Tunna?”

  “My lord’s influence doesn’t go that far, but two Lions will get you perhaps halfway to Bilia?”

  “Bilia it is, but not two Lions.”

  Pol didn’t understand all of what they said while they negotiated. Fadden and the thief began to insult each other as they haggled, and Pol lost all reference to their words.

  “One Lion,” Fadden said, holding out his hand.

  Pol turned around and slipped a Lion from a square leather tube that held six. He didn’t want the thief to see that he carried a full sleeve of the gold cubes.

  “Our saddling fee is waived.” The thief presented Fadden a token with a flourish and a deep bow. “Enjoy your ride.” The men left them alone on the farm.

  “Will they return?”

  “Not likely. A Lion is more than they would probably hope to collect in a month or two. In Bottara, once a person has paid, they are left alone. There are consequences for violating a properly paid bribe.”

  “A code of extortionate principles,” Pol said.

  Kell chuckled and Paki didn’t quite understand Pol’s joke, but Fadden did. He laughed and put his arm around Pol’s shoulder. “You have made the right observation. There is definitely a pattern to Botarran ethics.”

  Pol didn’t agree with the extortion in the first place, but he’d rather give up a Lion than get slowed up in a fight where they might be delayed in saving Shira.

  They mounted up, and Pol noticed that Fadden made sure he was well-armed.

  “I thought you said we wouldn’t have to worry about the thieves,” Paki said.

  “You never know if the thieves you have paid off follow the Botarran ethical pattern,” Fadden said. “Let’s not tarry.”

  Pol hadn’t realized that the rain had ended the night before, until the sun came up before they were a mile or two away from the farm. He anticipated a less-grueling day on the road, but he detected a column of eight men riding up from the direction of the farm.

  “Eight riders,” Pol said.

  “Good range. You can bet our little friend won’t be among them. He’s already had his reward.”

  “Am I going to lose another Lion?”

  Fadden shook his head. “We fight this time, or they will be trailing us all the way to Tunna. Can you fight using magic?”

  “I’m a pattern-master,” Pol said.

  “That makes two of us. Can you do something more flashy?” Fadden said.

  “Like knock a man off his horse?”

  Fadden nodded. “Like that. A quick show that we can make them pay instead of us. Let’s find a suitable place to make a stand.”

  They rode up to the crest of a hill and remained mounted.

  “Four more riders coming from the right side,” Pol said.

  “I suppose flashy might not work,” Fadden said. “Be prepared to fight.”

  Pol leaned back and pulled out more of his Shinkyan throwing knives. He couldn’t hold back now, not with Shira’s rescue becoming a more remote possibility with every moment lost.

  “Do we give them quarter?” Kell asked.

  “No,” Fadden said. “Their lord would hang them for what they are doing. They’ll be after all the Lions if they can catch us out in the open.”

  Pol clenched his teeth together for what he would have to do. “It won’t be a fair fight,” he said as their opponents held their ground.

  Four of the eight rode to their left. Now they were surrounded on three sides.

  “No, it won’t be fair. I am prepared to die,” Fadden said. “My only regret is failing your Shinkyan girlfriend,”

  “I didn’t mean ‘not fair’ for us,” Pol said.

  The riders pulled out their swords. Two men nocked arrows in their bows. Pol would take them out first. Contrary to Fadden’s claim that their leader wouldn’t show up, he headed up one of the groups.

  “One last chance. Prepare to die!” Pol shouted in Botarran.

  “What?” Fadden said. “You told them they would be taking baths.”

  Paki chuckled. “I think Pol’s anger is up. What do you think, Kell?”

  “Fadden, be prepared to protect Pol. He’s our only chance.”

  The ex-Seeker looked perplexed, but re-gripped his sword and clenched the fist holding his horse’s reins.

  “You’re the ones who will be cleaned out this day,” the short man yelled back.

  The attackers were about ready to charge when Pol teleported a knife into one archer’s chest and then took down another archer in the same way. The Botarrans looked in amazement as their comrades fell off their horses.

  Pol grabbed another blade and sent it into the head of the negotiator. When he fell off his horse, the others stopped.

  Fadden turned to Pol, his eyes showing his disbelief in what just happened.

  Pol took two more blades and took care of two more opponents. The remaining men looked at each other, turned their horses around, and fled.

  “Is that flashy enough?” Pol said, feeling a bit lightheaded. He hadn’t used his magic for days, and the tension of the situation drained him of his reserves.

  “I’ve never seen such a thing. Your knives left your hands, but I didn’t see them thrown,” Fadden said.

  Pol nodded. “The pattern is like moving pennies directly from one square across the board, except these are no pennies,” Pol said holding the last knife in his hand. He dismounted and walked to the field and examined each man.

  Fadden bent down and retrieved their leader’s purse. “Your Lion.”

  “Keep it,” Pol said. “I can’t speak the language well enough to spend it properly.”

  He sighed. He couldn’t retrieve his throwing knives and maintain any kind of respect for his fallen opponents.

  “You are more than a gray,” Fadden said.

  “I don’t care about that.” He took one last look at the fallen leader. “We have to be on our way.”

  “One last thing.” Fadden said as he took out a small sack of tokens from the dead man’s saddlebags. ‘These will get us all the way to Tunna.”

  They mounted and left their field of battle as Fadden led them towards Shira and the Botarran ‘Hole’.

  ~

  “We’ve made good enough time to spend a night in a village inn,” Fadden said. “We can leave at dawn, but our horses need the rest more than we do.”

  He took them though a village to an inn on the other side.

  “I’ve stayed here often enough. It has very good wine.” Fadden smiled.

  Pol knew that Paki and Kell were as tired as he felt. A bed would allow him a better rest than another night on the cold, wet ground.

  They took a room for six. Paki put his saddlebags down and collapsed on a bed. He had started snoring by the time Pol had washed his face in the basin.

  Kell had sniffed out a dice game. He left them after wolfing down his dinner in the common room.

  Fadden watched Kell leave them. “He takes a chance gambling with the locals. They can change the rules on him.”

  “He spent the last three days learning the Botarran number system. If it’s a fair game, he’ll have a chance,” Pol said.

  Fadden took a sip of his wine. “You don’t need either of your friends to retrieve Shira, do you?”

  Pol looked towards the gaming table on the far side of the common room. “I’ve done a lot of thinking and building a pattern. Our challenge won’t be rescuing Shira; it will be the Pontifer’s pursuit.

  “Ah, I can’t agree. The Hole has only been breached a few times, but if anyone can do such a thing, you can, but you are right to be concerned about pursuit. Gasibli taught you well.”

  “I had a few teachers. A monk at Deftnis named Jonness helped me with patterns.”

  “How is Jonness doing? We were at Deftnis together, you know. He had a
bad experience on a Seeking mission and lost his desire. An innocent woman died, and he never got over it. I would imagine Jonness is a good teacher.”

  “I never knew his history, just that he told me that Seeking wasn’t something he wanted to do.”

  Fadden filled Pol’s goblet with wine and then did the same for himself. “He’s the kind of man who teaches you more than you realize. I always enjoyed his company, since he was always smarter than I.”

  “Aren’t you smart enough?”

  The ex-Seeker shook his head. “I was more than competent, I’ll grant you, but I never had the stomach for some of the things that Gasibli or Threshell do.”

  “Has Namion disregarded the Emperor’s wishes in Volia?”

  Fadden nodded. “Fomenting the civil war has consumed him. If it works, Namion will be a hero, and if it fails, Namion will have a hard time returning to Yastan.”

  Pol took a sip of the wine. He dared not finish the cup with a clear conscience. He had to maintain his alertness until Shira was captured and they were well on their way to escape.

  “I knew Seekers operated on the edge of the law, but I never imagined a Seeker turning against the Empire.”

  Pol’s comment made Fadden laugh, but Pol noted the sadness in Fadden’s eyes.

  “He hasn’t turned against the Emperor, but he’s made a risky choice. Men aren’t gods. They make mistakes. They disagree with one another, and their judgement can be twisted by their attitude. If that attitude is based on greed…”

  “I understand.”

  “I imagine you do, growing up in a royal household.”

  Pol had certainly done that, but he had always clung to a romantic image of what Seekers did. When Jonness’s assistants at Deftnis said they gave up Seeking, Pol had thought less of them; now he wasn’t so sure of that.

  He had done things he wasn’t proud of and used his magical talents to kill. Even the men they had killed not long ago made Pol feel a bit guilty. At least there were eight men who recently had the good sense to give up the fight.

  “Do you hate the killing?” Pol said.

  Fadden nodded. “I always hated the killing. One can be an Emperor’s Seeker and not have to take a life except in self-defense. Unfortunately, there are always clashes with those who would take your life, or left to themselves, will take more lives.”

  “King Astor, for example.”

  Fadden took another sip of wine. “King Astor, certainly, and his monks.” He looked at Pol. “We’ve managed to talk around the prospects of Shira’s rescue. I know some people who will help us.”

  “How?”

  “Where were you going to go after Botarra?”

  “Fistyra, of course. I’m heading to Fassin.”

  Fadden nodded. “So we have some of my friends set up a false trail east towards the Fistyran border, but we will head south and take a ship to Bastiz, the Fistyran capital.”

  “Won’t the Pontifer seal off all his ports?”

  Fadden shook his head. “I know a few places that won’t be too particular who ships out. With a false trail, we stand a chance.”

  “But do we have the time to get all that arranged?” Pol asked.

  Fadden raised his hand. “Ceria, it’s time to join us.”

  The woman behind the bar put down the goblet she had just washed and sat at their table.

  “I want you to meet a good friend. Ceria, this is Pol Cissert.”

  “Isn’t he a little young for a Seeker?” she said. The woman wore her long hair in thick braids and dressed in a thick woolen dress. She had a scar across a cheek.

  “He’s an adept. Don’t let his youth fool you,” Fadden said. “If anyone can retrieve a woman from Terria’s ‘Hole’, he can. I’ll need a trail of five or six horses heading overland towards the Fistyran border from the edge of the park.”

  “Park?” Pol asked.

  “The Hole is surrounded by a manicured wood. We call it a park since it doesn’t look natural,” the woman said.

  “I know how to cover my tracks using magic,” Pol said. He’d done it enough when he escaped from the Tesnan army.

  “So do I,” Fadden said.

  “Shira can help, but if she’s drugged…”

  Ceria pursed her lips. “Just assume your lady friend won’t be able to do anything for awhile. Be prepared to tie her to a horse’s saddle when you leave.”

  Pol didn’t like the advice, but he saw the wisdom. “I will, assuming she’s right,” he said to Fadden.

  “Of course she’s right. She is one of the few who have ever escaped from the Hole.”

  Ceria slapped Fadden on the shoulder. “I couldn’t do it now,” she said. “Do not give the boy too much hope. Terria has made improvements. I dug my way out, and he has since lined every inch with stone, from what I hear.”

  “They didn’t try to recapture you?” Pol asked.

  She nodded. “I changed my name and colored my hair. I am originally blonde.” She ran her hand through raven-colored tresses. “There are few blondes in Botarra, and that was my novelty.”

  “Ceria is still a beautiful woman,” Fadden said.

  “But still too old and wrinkled for the Pontifer’s taste.” She touched her scar. “He likes them different and young.”

  “Like an animal zoo?” Pol said.

  Ceria smiled. “Exactly. His harem is more like a zoo, except he messes with their minds.”

  “With magic?”

  She nodded. “He uses other techniques, too. Fear, hunger, thirst, lack of light. It’s torture until they break.”

  Pol didn’t like the sound of that. “Shira will take a long time to break, but if she’s drugged the entire time, who knows what will happen?”

  “Nothing good,” Ceria said. “They are invariably effective. I managed to get out of there before he had his people perfect their techniques.”

  “How long ago was that?” Pol asked.

  Fadden chuckled. “She won’t tell you that, but let’s say you probably weren’t talking or walking when she escaped.”

  Ceria poked Fadden’s arm. The gesture painfully reminded Pol of Shira’s attacks. He had to get her out. “I have some unusual talents,” Pol said.

  The woman looked at Pol and then at Fadden, who nodded. “He does, Ceria. He’s better at locating than I am and can teleport knives right into a person’s body.”

  “Then he wouldn’t even need to carry weapons in, just a cluster of wooden rods would work to disable someone. The Hole has magnets at the end of sliding stone segments around the perimeter to keep weapons from entering. Terria sends men down into the Hole without weapons and his women go down naked, without clothes. ” She looked at Pol. “You might have a chance after all.”

  Pol couldn’t think of a more demeaning start to life in that awful place.

  “How far is the Hole from here?” Pol asked.

  “Four hours,” Ceria said.

  “What else do I need to know?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve told you all I can. As I said, the Hole has been extensively remodeled. We found out about the magnets the hard way. The guards at the top and at the bottom have no restrictions on the weapons they carry, but even they can’t slip through the hole wearing metal.

  “Then I’ll go tonight. There is no time to lose,” Pol said. “I won’t chance taking Kell or Paki. We can head back here and then head away from Tunna.”

  Fadden looked at Ceria. “Do you have men to take you to the border with Fistyra?”

  Ceria’s face turned to stone. “I do. If you make it inside, anything you can do to eliminate the abominable place is worth my life.”

  “I don’t want your life, I just need a trail that will keep Pontifer Terria from following us,” Pol said.

  “We both will have our hands full with the Hounds,” Ceria said.

  “Hounds?”

  Fadden pitched in, “Terria has a corps of magicians and scouts that he uses to track miscreants down. They are called the Hounds
, and they are very good at what they do. Luckily, all Ceria and her people have to do is split up close to the border with Fistyra. There are a lot of villagers who will take them in.”

  Pol thought for a bit. “We should trade horses, especially if horseshoes are made a bit differently in South Parsimol.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” Fadden said. “We should also trade provisions and supplies.” He nodded, thinking. “The Hounds would pick up on things like that. You are a Seeker, aren’t you?” He grinned at Pol.

  “We can change horses before we return. You won’t want the Hounds to track you back here,” Pol said

  Ceria’s eyes flashed with understanding. “We will do as you ask. Those are very good ideas. I have some other ideas to draw the Hounds away, but I won’t share them with you, in case you get caught.” She smiled and patted Pol on his shoulder with much less force than she used on Fadden.

  “Tonight, then. Kell and Paki should stay at the inn, ready to leave as soon as we return. We’ll need an extra horse for Shira. Maybe a pack horse, too. An extra set of hooves might help throw them off,” Pol said.

  “Assuming you return from the Hole.”

  “I will.”

  ~~~

  Chapter Ten

  ~

  Fadden held the reins of Pol’s horse, while Pol made another check to be sure he wore nothing magnetic. He wondered how the Pontifer had come up with such strong magnets, but he wasn’t interested in finding out. His amulet was tucked away in his saddlebags. Ceria had helped him get suitable clothing and a collection of hard wooden pegs that fit into the legs of his trousers.

  He shivered in the cold dampness. At least no rain fell during the moonless night. He wore a small backpack that held thin black clothes and soled slippers for Shira. Pol still hadn’t figured out how to carry Shira all the way back to the hiding place two hundred yards from the edge of the park.

  “Good luck,” Fadden said, clapping Pol on his shoulder. “Go get her, boy.”

  Pol nodded and hurried across the field of dead grass, until he slipped into the darkness of the park. If they had a magnetic defense of the Hole, then they might have traps built into the surrounding woods. He carefully walked, rolling his feet as Siggon Horstel, Paki’s father, had taught him.