Deothen snapped his reins and spurred his mount to a gallop as fast as he could. “Get out of there!” he screamed. “It’s a trap! Move! Now!”
Brendis figured it out first. He glanced over his shoulder to see the creatures standing over them, and he slapped Levritt’s horse on the rump to make it move.
As the youngest knight’s mount leaped forward, a few of the creatures atop the ridge let loose a volley of arrows. Most flew wide of their mark, but one pierced a spot right below Brendis’s left shoulder. The knight was able to kick his steed into action before he slumped down over his reins.
It was suicide, Deothen knew. There was no way that the knights could stand against so many attackers. Their only hope was to outrun them, and here he was racing straight for them.
Do you get many guests here, my Lady Majeeda?”
The deathless elf looked across the dining table at Kandler, an amused smile swimming across her face. “You are not the first to have supped at my table since the Day of Mourning,” she said. “Is the repast not to your liking?”
Kandler surveyed the wide oak table before him. He sat at the foot of the table with Majeeda across from him at the head. Sallah fidgeted to his right, while to his left Burch perched on the edge of an ornate chair covered with elven carvings. Esprë sat between Burch and the wizard. Kandler had tried to jockey for Esprë to sit near him, but Majeeda seemed to have taken a liking to the girl that was just as strong as her revulsion for the shifter.
The food was wonderful. The tasty roast had just a bit of pink in the middle. The potatoes were creamy and light. The vegetables were fresh and savory. Even the apples were crisp and tart.
“My compliments,” Kandler said.
The wizard laughed again, the sound rattling in Kandler’s ears. “Oh, you are a prize,” she said. “No hands touched this food. I conjured it myself from thin air.”
Burch choked on a piece of meat he’d been chewing. He reached out for a goblet of mead with which to wash it down but stopped and tried to hack it up on his own. When it was clear that wouldn’t work, the shifter snatched up the goblet and threw back the golden liquid so fast that Kandler couldn’t tell if Burch had swallowed it or just opened up his throat and poured it in.
Majeeda wrinkled her nose at the shifter as if someone had brought a half-trained animal to her table. He smiled at her and belched loud and long.
“Good grub,” he said.
The wizard buried her face in a long, spindly hand and shook her head in disgust.
“When did you last entertain?” Sallah asked. “You seem well versed at it.”
Majeeda turned toward the knight and smiled at the compliment. “I have had few guests here since the Day of Mourning, but I do what I can to keep them happy for as long as they are with me.”
She pushed away the plate in front of her. Although it was heaped with food, she had pointedly left it untouched.
“To answer your question,” Majeeda said, her eyes focusing into the distance. “The last party I held here was for a small group of fortune hunters—adventurers, they called themselves—who were wandering through the Mournland in search of treasure. Can you imagine such a thing?”
Kandler and Sallah shook their heads. Burch ignored the question as he turned back to gorging himself on his meal. Esprë flashed a wide smile at the wizard.
Majeeda reached out and patted the girl’s hand before continuing with her tale. “There were five of them, a priest of Dol Dorn and a sorcerer among them. The others were their bodyguards, ready to defend them in case of physical peril. At least that’s what they said. The little one always looked at everything I owned as if it might turn to gold on the spot.”
“How did they get here?” Kandler asked. “I’ll bet more than one set of potential visitors has fallen into your moat.”
Majeeda cackled at that. “Oh, there’s no water in there. Hasn’t been for years. It’s just a sheer drop, fifty feet down.”
Kandler felt an urge to offer the elf a drink for her parched throat, but he was sure that no fluids had passed her lips since before he was born.
“Has anyone ever survived it?” Esprë asked with wide eyes.
“It’s possible, I suppose,” Majeeda said, “but they could never climb out before the oozes that live down there swept the place clean. The poor dears get so little to eat these days. It used to be you could count on a rabbit or even a deer to fall into the place every now and then, but in these dark days that happens so rarely.”
Sallah’s fork clattered to her plate. To Kandler, she looked a little green.
“Please don’t be upset about it,” Majeeda said to the knight, as she wrinkled her thin brow at her. “It’s not a matter of good or evil. It’s just the circle of life.”
Burch looked up for a moment from the bone he was gnawing on to belch a greasy agreement.
“But that’s not how my last visitors got here,” Majeeda said, turning away from the side of the table at which Burch sat. Kandler saw the shifter grin.
“How did they arrive?” asked Sallah.
“They flew here in airship,” the wizard said.
Esprë’s eyes flew wide. “Really?”
The wizard nodded at her. “It’s magical, of course, something along the lines of the lightning rails.”
“The first one I saw was flying over Flamekeep while I was attending the Knights’ Academy,” Sallah said to Esprë. “They’re huge—almost like a galleon, but much sleeker.”
“How do they move?” Esprë asked. Kandler smiled at her eagerness to learn more.
“House Cannith builds them in Fairhaven, up in Aundair. Their dragonmarked shipwrights bind an elemental creature of fire to the vessel. When the ship moves, the elemental appears as a ring of fire that runs around its middle.” Sallah drew a vertical circle in the air in front of her to illustrate.
Majeeda shook her head condescendingly. Kandler could tell she was irritated that someone else might have Esprë’s attention. “The ship these people came in on was much smaller than that. There were only the five of them on it. They spotted the mists surrounding my tower here and came to investigate. They set down inside the moat and announced themselves.” The wizard laughed again. “They hardly needed to say anything. With my magic, I saw them coming from miles off. Even without my crystal ball, I could hardly have missed the ring of fire surrounding their vessel. It nearly burned the mists away. It took me hours to get it all right again.”
“Where are they now?” Sallah asked.
Kandler winced as Majeeda turned her full attention on the lady knight. The wizard’s papery lips trembled as she spoke.
“They did not appreciate my hospitality. They turned on me. They …” Majeeda covered her face with her skeletal hands. “They tried to kill me.”
Sallah reached her hand across the table toward the wizard but pulled back when Kandler shook his head at her. “That’s terrible,” she said. “Wh-what did you do?”
Majeeda removed her hands from her face and wiped away her nonexistent tears. Kandler almost thought he could see trails of dust on her face instead.
“I did what I had to do. What they forced me to do.” Her face turned grim and determined. “I, well …” She looked sidelong at Esprë, who was hanging on her every word, then she put a hand to the side of her mouth to block the girl from seeing her lips and whispered, “I eradicated them.”
Burch watched Esprë’s eyes grow wide. He tried to kick her under the table to tell her to be quiet, but the wizard spotted him and her scowl sent him back to perching on the seat instead. Majeeda turned to the girl and stretched out her hands.
“I’m sorry, my dear,” the deathless elf said. “I didn’t mean to disturb your young mind with such terrible tales about such horrible people. Please forgive me.”
Esprë glanced at Kandler, who nodded at her. The girl looked back at the wizard and gulped. “I’m fine,” she said. “I was just thinking about that vampire and how you got rid of him.” The gi
rl let a smile poke through her fear. “That was a good thing you did.”
A grin grew across the wizard’s face, so wide that it seemed her jaw might fall off into her lap. “I’m so glad you think so,” she said. Her pale, sunken eyes sparkled with joy, and the light within her glowed a bit brighter.
Majeeda beamed at each of the people around the table with her, even Burch, although less so when she saw the shifter wiping his face with her table linen.
“It’s so good to be surrounded by such fine people again, people who understand me.” She sighed. “It’s been so long.”
“We’re glad to be here,” Kandler said. “This is far better than spending another night in the Mournland. We spent most of the night chasing that vampire and changeling.”
With that reminder, Esprë covered her mouth as she tried to stifle a long yawn.
“Where are my manners?” Majeeda said. “I forget that the living tire so easily, and you must have had such a harrowing ordeal. Can I show you to your chambers?”
The guests nodded as one and followed as the deathless elf rose and strode from the chamber. She walked over to the stairs in the north wall and ascended another flight to the next floor up.
“The guest chambers are up here,” Majeeda said.
They emerged into a sitting room about a third of the size of the dining hall or the library on the first floor.
Overstuffed chairs sat scattered about the room in pairs, accompanied by low tables for resting feet or drinks upon. A roaring fire blazed in an open hearth near the rear wall, showering the room in warm, flickering light. Two closed doors stood at opposite ends of a wooden wall, otherwise covered with gold and red tapestries that ran across the tower from side to side.
“Ladies reside on the left,” Majeeda said. “Gentlemen on the right.”
Burch leaned in to whisper something to Kandler. The justicar turned to their hostess and spoke to her in her native tongue again. “My compatriot here”—he pointed to Burch—“prefers to sleep outdoors. We’d be in your debt if you could find appropriate arrangements for him.”
Majeeda frowned for a short moment. “You think he’d fare better in the courtyard?” she responded in the common tongue.
Burch’s face lit up.
“I think so,” said Kandler as he rubbed his eyes. “Otherwise, he’s liable to start howling and keep us all awake.”
Majeeda inclined her head at Kandler. “Allow me to take care of this matter for you.”
Kandler glanced at the shifter, concern etched on his face. Burch recognized the “Are you sure about this?” look. In response, he gave Kandler a single, serious nod. To Burch, this seemed like their best chance for escape, and he wasn’t going to back down now.
“Our thanks for your kind consideration, my Lady Majeeda,” Kandler said.
Esprë ran over and gave Kandler a big hug before following Sallah through the left door. Kandler watched her go and waited for the door to close before he took the door on the right. Burch gave him a quick wink just before the justicar shut the door.
“Follow me,” Majeeda said to Burch. She turned and walked off without looking back to see if he would pursue her. He did.
When they reached the stairs, Majeeda climbed upward instead of going down. Burch hesitated for a moment but then started up after the deathless elf.
There was a landing at the top of the stairs, and Majeeda waited for Burch there. When he caught up with her, she pointed at an ironbound trapdoor hanging in the ceiling above them. “That leads to the roof,” the wizard said. “Please show yourself up and close the door behind you. I trust you will be comfortable up there.”
Burch hesitated for a moment. He wanted to be put in the courtyard, but he supposed that getting outside at all was a good first step. He nodded at her without a word.
“Excellent.” Majeeda gestured for the shifter to proceed.
Burch clambered up the short ladder to the trapdoor and slid aside the thin metal bar that kept it locked from below. He pushed the heavy door up until it fell back on its hinges, and he pulled himself through the opening and onto the roof.
Chill winds whipped around the top of the tower. The mists here were still so thick that the shifter could not see through them to the sky or even much farther than his feet. He sighed as he breathed in the open air again. Even clogged as it was with the swirling gray mist, it still tasted better than the mausoleum atmosphere below.
“Don’t forget to close the door,” Majeeda called up from the landing. “It does rain out there sometimes. I’d rather it didn’t flood me out.”
Without a word, Burch leaned over and pulled the trapdoor shut, letting its weight slam it closed. He stood there for a moment listening, and he heard Majeeda tap the door with her bony fingers.
When Burch was sure the wizard was gone, he pulled on the trapdoor’s iron ring. The door didn’t budge a hair.
Sleep called to Burch, but the shifter decided to tour his surroundings. If he was trapped up here, he’d need a good idea of what “here” was like. The assurances of the wizard aside, this was still the Mournland.
He had hoped the wizard would put him in the courtyard where he might be able to escape and find Deothen and the other knights so he could lead them back here to fight the wizard. The plan still sounded like suicide in his head, but Majeeda had foiled even that idea.
Burch padded to what he thought should be the north. Within just a few steps, he found the edge of the roof. A waist-high shield wall topped by a battlement lined it.
The shifter leaned out through one of the gaps in the battlement. The wall dropped away from it at a negative incline, slanting in toward the rest of the tower. The stones from which the exterior of the tower was made were all cut neat and fitted well and smooth. He had considered scaling his way down to the courtyard, but that seemed impossible now.
Burch picked up a small stone from the roof and dropped it over the edge of the battlement. He listened but never heard it hit bottom. Whether that meant there was no bottom to the moat or that it was filled with those oozes the deathless elf had talked about, the shifter couldn’t tell.
He walked a slow circuit around the perimeter of the wall, keeping his hand on the top of the battlement, bouncing his hand from one high section to the next. He walked for a long while, hoping to find a corner as a point of reference. It was then he realized that the top of the tower was not square but round.
A moment of sharp panic raced through the shifter’s mind. He didn’t know how he’d ever manage to get back to the trapdoor in this mist. He could crisscross the top of the tower time and time again without finding it, he was sure.
Then Burch realized it didn’t matter. The trapdoor was locked, maybe by magic. Even if he found it, he wouldn’t be able to open it. He was stuck out here until Majeeda came to let him back into the tower again.
His mind more at ease, the shifter decided to take a stroll across the roof, just to see if he might stumble across the trapdoor anyhow. That small victory would make him feel better, no matter how hopeless the situation now seemed.
Burch padded across the rooftop, scanning the floor ahead of him and to both sides as he went. He did so twice and never found the trapdoor. He decided to keep at it for a while, to work off some of his nervous energy. He never liked feeling like he was in a cage, even one without a roof.
Burch had lost track of the number of times he’d crossed the top of the tower and was considering giving up when he tripped over something. He danced across it, regaining his balance, then spun about to see what it was.
Burch got on his knees. Instead of the iron ring in the trapdoor he’d hoped for, he found a large, iron mooring cleat that had been mounted in the tower’s roof with huge spikes. He poked at it for a moment, unsure what to make of it.
Then Burch noticed the rope still attached to the cleat. It was slack, so he picked it up in one hand and followed it. Perhaps there was enough of it for him to lower himself over the side of the roof and
to the ground below. He might even be able to swing out wide enough to cross the chasm.
As Burch crept along, the rope cradled in his hand as if it was spun from gold, he realized that the line left the roof and wandered into the sky. Mystified, he followed it until it pulled out of his reach, then he backed up and gave it a tug. It was hanging from something.
Burch scratched his head. “It can’t be,” he said with a grin.
“One way to find out,” the shifter answered himself. He grabbed the rope in both hands and began to climb.
Kandler looked around the bedchamber. Four different beds lined the walls, each made of polished mahogany with a tall, white canopy. A thick oak panel separated this bedchamber from the ladies’, just like the one that partitioned off the sitting room from the rest of this level of the tower. Wide, unglazed windows stood in the tower’s outer wall. As with the windows on the other floors, the mists dared not cross over their thresholds.
The justicar ran a finger along the edge of one of the ornate nightstands that stood next to each bed. It came back covered with dust.
Kandler heard the trapdoor in the tower’s roof slam shut. He returned to the door and pressed his ear against it. He could hear someone walk down the upper stairs and stop in the sitting room.
Majeeda’s voice muttered something in the arcane tongue of wizards. After a moment of silence, footsteps receded down the stairs from the sitting room to the lower levels. When Kandler was sure his host had left, he tried the door. It didn’t budge, no matter how hard he shook it.
The justicar strode over to the windows and peered into the mist. He couldn’t see anything other than the swirling clouds. He poked his head outside, and the cloying mist clung to him. Even at this altitude, it was so thick he couldn’t see anything below or above.
Kandler peered off to his left where he guessed there would be a window looking out from the ladies’ bedchamber. If there was, it remained hidden to him.
“Esprë,” the justicar called through the mist. He feared that Majeeda might hear him, but he was ready to risk it. “Sallah, are you there?”
Marked for Death: The Lost Mark, Book 1 Page 18
