They’ll probably kill me anyway when they’re done using me, but what choice do I have. Even after all these years, I have no credibility. He looked them over again. I could kill them both now and leave. But they aren’t working alone. Someone would find out and remove “my burden” as they already threatened. Better to do as they say.
“Hey, you’re not thinking of backing out?” Dek asked him, as if he heard his thoughts.
“No. Just keeping to myself is all.”
“Good. I like that.”
“Uhhhhhhhhh,” came a noise.
Jober let go of the sack in reaction to the low moan, causing the other two men to stumble.
“What’s the matter with you? You trying to get us killed?” asked Dek.
“There’s someone in there,” said Jober.
“Of course there is. Did you think we needed help dragging out the trash at this time of night?”
“But there wasn’t a body the other nights.”
Dek shook his head. “Those were practice runs. We wanted to make sure we could trust you first.” He pointed down. “Now pick up your end. We’ve still got a ways to go.”
The three men moved along the palace’s winding passages, avoiding the debris that littered the floors. Jober said nothing for some time, listening instead to the two men squabble in hushed tones, just as they had every other night this week. He tried to ignore the body inside the sack but each small grunt or heavy exhale of breath that reached his ears, only piqued his curiosity. Finally, he had enough. “Who is it?”
The bickering cut off at Jober’s question and the two men stared back at him.
“What’s it matter to you?” asked Dek.
“Just curious is all.”
Olan turned to his partner. “Yeah, who is it anyway?”
The other man grinned, eyeing Olan before turning to Jober. “How about I give you a hint? Who is the one person in all of Hesh that you would least expect to be taken by surprise?”
“Bazraki?” said Olan.
“No, you idiot,” said Dek, punching the other in the shoulder.
“What are you hitting me for? You said the least likely.”
“No,” said Jober. “He said the one you would least expect to be taken by surprise.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Plenty,” said Jober, pausing in sudden realization. He looked at Dek. “I don’t believe it.”
Dek’s grin grew wider. “Look for yourself then. He ain’t going anywhere.”
Jober hesitated at first, but decided he had to do it. He bent over and slowly undid the knot, loosening the laces. The opening fell around the man’s head and Jober heard a gasp from behind.
Impossible.
“Kaz. We’ve been dragging him around.” said Olan, his voice edged in fear.
“How is this possible?” said Jober turning to Dek.
“You trying to say I don’t have the skill to pull this off?” asked Dek.
Olan turned to his friend, saying what Jober wanted to say. “You don’t have the skill to pull this off. No one does.”
Dek made a face. “Fine. We bought someone off to drug his food along with his wife’s so she wouldn’t wake up. Then I snatched him and brought him into the hallway for you two to help with.”
Jober turned Kaz’s head, feeling a sticky substance on the back of it. Moving his hand away, he saw blood. “You hit him when he was already unconscious?”
“I wanted to make sure he was out.”
“Why not kill him right there then?” asked Olan.
“Because, idiot,” said Dek. “That wasn’t what our instructions were. I was told to bring him alive.”
“I don’t like this. What if he wakes up? You’ve heard the stories. They say he can’t be killed in battle and that over a thousand men have died by his hands.”
“He don’t look like much now, does he?” asked Dek, kicking Kaz’s limp form. “He’s probably not even half of what those stories say he is. Everyone just talks him up because of who his father is. Well, he doesn’t impress me any.” He paused. “Hey Jober, you’re awful quiet again for someone who was just so curious. You’re not about to try something funny, are you?”
I can’t try something funny, not if I want to save my family. “No. I’m fine.”
“You were a Kifzo too for awhile, weren’t you?” asked Olan.
“Yeah.”
“Is it true what they say about him?” said Olan, nodding to Kaz. “They make it sound like he is unstoppable.”
“Do you know the Kifzo named Durahn?” asked Jober.
“Yeah. He’s an evil one,” said Olan. “Huge too. Looks like some giant gorilla, right?”
“That’s him,” said Jober.
“What of it?”
“I’d rather face a half dozen like Durahn than one like Kaz,” said Jober. Even in the dark he could see Olan’s eyes widen.
Dek grunted. “You’re full of it. Besides, what do you know? I heard how you were kicked out.”
Jober’s head hung low but he didn’t say a word. Who hasn’t heard what happened?
Olan started. “But, what if…”
“I don’t want to hear it. Enough talk. Close that up and let’s get him to the shaman.”
Shaman? That figures. It wouldn’t be the first time one tried to kill him. Though, I can’t think of anyone brave enough to try after the last time. I guess after a few years people forget. Jober retied the sack after closing it around Kaz’s head and the three resumed their journey down the hall.
* * *
Jober descended the winding staircase while taking the brunt of Kaz’s weight, more careful with the sack now that he knew what it contained.
I owe at least that much to him.
The bottom of the stairs flowed into a circular room, empty except for a half dozen arched doorways facing them. Dek pointed toward a flickering light beyond the entrance farthest to the right. “There.”
The three entered the room, sack in tow. Underground, the room was windowless. Torches lining the walls provided light. An air shaft sent a small breeze throughout the room causing the flames to dance. A storage room.
A figure in shadow stood near the opposite wall, hands clasped behind his back. He stepped into the muted glow and Jober recognized Nachun. Dark blue robes, covered in red symbols, a hint to the man’s past, hung off his tall, thin frame.
If the whispers about his power are true, then it would take someone like him to have the guts to attempt this thing.
The shaman’s eyes settled on the sack. “I take it there were no problems?”
“No one bothered us or saw us if that’s what you mean,” said Dek. “It wasn’t easy hauling him around though. He’s a heavy one.”
The shaman ignored the comments. “Get him out of the sack and place him in the center of the room.”
Dek removed the sack completely and Jober saw that Kaz was naked. Even in the faint light he could see the fresh scrapes covering Kaz. His massive chest heaved up and down with every breath as if seething in anger though he remained unconscious.
“Why was he not bound?” asked the shaman.
“He was drugged and in a sack. Besides I took extra precaution,” said Dek with a smile, pointing to the dark fluid matting the Kifzo’s long hair.
The shaman looked at the wound on Kaz’s head. “I thought I was specific about his condition.”
Dek shrugged. “You said you wanted him alive. He’s breathing.”
The shaman didn’t look up, and only sighed. “So I did.”
Olan leaned into Dek, whispering, “When are we going to get our money?”
The shaman pointed to a spot on the floor behind him, off in the corner. “You’ll find your money there.”
Dek took a step back. “It was a pleasure doing business with you. We’ll just grab this and be on our way.”
The shaman wheeled around. “No. Not yet.”
“We had a deal,” said Dek.
“We did
,” said the shaman. “And I’ve just changed the terms. Don’t worry, you’ll both still get your money.” He turned to Jober. “And your family will be safe, but only after I’m done here.” He pulled a piece of rolled parchment from his sleeve, unraveling it with care.
Dek extended his neck and peered over the parchment as the shaman laid it on the floor in front of him. “What do you need a map for?” He looked at the parchment again. “And one so old? I don’t recognize any of the landmarks.”
“It is none of your concern. However, it is crucial that I’m not disturbed until the process is over. You two will watch the doorway.”
“For what? We already told you that no one followed us.”
“I don’t want to take any more chances.”
Dek sneered. “What’s in it for us?”
“Your life.” said the shaman. A small glow formed in his hands as his gaze met each of the three men, lingering the longest on Dek.
Olan swallowed hard, then forced a smile. “Sounds fair. Right Dek?”
Dek nodded.
“Good,” said the shaman. “Now take the door.” He pointed to Jober. “But you, I want next to me in case he starts to wake up,” he said gesturing to the floor. Kaz let out a low moan and the shaman handed Jober some cord. “Check him quickly and tie up his hands.”
Jober leaned in close to Kaz, blocking the shaman’s view of what he did. He checked the Kifzo’s eyelids as Kaz groaned. “Forgive me Kaz,” was all he dared to whisper and Jober swore he saw a glimmer of brief recognition before Kaz’s eyes rolled back into his head. Just my imagination.
He tied Kaz’s hands together using lengths of leather, betting on the fact that the shaman would not look over his work. Still, to be safe he looped, turned, and twisted the knot over and over to give it the appearance of strength.
I wish I could do more though I’m not even sure what’s going to happen.
Jober stood up and nodded to the shaman that Kaz was secure. Dek and Olan had moved near the door. Neither appeared particularly interested in keeping watch. Instead they glanced back to the shaman’s preparations.
Now on his knees, less than five feet from where Kaz lay, the shaman leaned over the map, eyes focused on one specific section. The shaman seemed oblivious to all else around him.
After a moment, Jober could feel a shift in the air. It seemed almost thinner somehow. He caught the worried expression from Olan’s face and knew he also felt the change. Beads of sweat formed on the shaman’s face accompanied by a small tremble in his lip which he attempted to stifle by biting down. Kaz’s entire body started to quiver, and the Kifzo let out a deep groan. The shaman’s eyes clinched tight, his jaw set in determination as drops of sweat rolled off his nose and splashed onto the parchment before him.
Having once trained as a Kifzo, Jober was not completely naïve about sorcery, yet he was far from an expert. Still, even he recognized the amount of power emanating from the shaman, and it dwarfed anything he had felt in the past. A shiver ran down his spine. The air shimmering, he struggled to keep his breathing even.
Despite the awe of witnessing such a thing, a faint sound caught his attention. He turned toward the doorway and saw Dek gasp in surprise. The body slumped to the floor, exposing a man wielding a knife and appearing almost identical in size to the warrior bound in the center of the room. Olan moved too slowly and the same blade sunk into his gut. The arm holding it thrust upward with such force it lifted the man briefly off the ground. The body fell next to Dek’s.
* * *
For the third straight night Tobin had trouble sleeping. He had been running into Lucia more than he was accustomed to during the day, and thoughts of her bright smile and warm touch filled his dreams. He should have welcomed those thoughts, a break from the horrors of war that haunted him. But those imaginings of Lucia only increased his depression. His brother’s disapproving scowl woke him with a start each time and Tobin found himself covered in sweat. Then the dull throb of his ankle that seemed to plague him most when at rest, brought forth more bitter feelings. Rather than stare at the plastered ceiling of his bedchamber until morning, he had taken to walking the palace.
He found himself enjoying those walks. Absent of activity, he could look upon the work from the day before uninterrupted. And for some unexplained reason, he had always found comfort in such moments of quiet. Even after three nights, he had barely covered half of the palace’s grounds as he visited a different section each night.
It was only by chance that he chose a part of the east wing upon waking from another fitful sleep. The route he had planned changed as he strode through the meandering hallways, noticing a small amount of fresh blood near a seldom used stairwell. His curiosity piqued further by several sets of footprints that appeared to be dragging something through the thick dust from all the masonry work.
A sputter of light from a doorway near the bottom of the stairs made him thankful for the time he took to arm himself. Two men stood with their backs to the entrance, their attention diverted from where Tobin suspected it should have been. Padding on light feet, he peered into the dim room without either noticing. Another man stood near the room’s center. He looked familiar, but Tobin could not immediately place him. The man, like the two near the entrance watched the bent figure kneeling on the floor. He wore the robes of a shaman, though the shadow from the man standing over him blocked much of his form. In shock, Tobin's eyes landed on the naked body lying near the shaman, wrists tied behind his back. He didn’t need any help recognizing his brother.
A hundred questions ran through his mind. But rather than wait and hope for answers, he acted. He unsheathed his knives and the man to his left fell. The one to his right followed. He rushed into the room toward the familiar figure who stood near Kaz.
Tobin’s arm whipped forward and the knife left his hand. The man attempted to avoid the dagger but was a step too slow and the blade took him in the side. Letting out a scream, he toppled next to the shaman. Looking to take advantage of the situation, Tobin raced forward. He halted at the sound of his name from a familiar yet ragged voice. “Tobin?”
“Nachun?”
The air took on a foul odor and Nachun looked down to Kaz, his body convulsing. “No,” he whispered. “What have you done?”
The center of the room rippled, reminiscent of a raindrop striking a puddle. Tobin stared at where his brother’s body had been, mouth gaping.
* * *
Still thinking of protecting his family, Jober took the opportunity to whip his leg around, striking Tobin in the ankle. The Kifzo’s leg buckled, toppling him to the floor. Tobin let out a terrible scream. Jober pounced on top of him and the two wrestled for position. For a moment, Jober held his own, but his training had been long ago, and blood poured from his side. Tobin quickly overpowered him, sweeping him onto his back. The Kifzo reached for another blade at his side but Jober got a hand there first and unsheathed it. A burst of light filled the room, blinding him. The blade clanked to the ground.
Why did he stop me? Too weak to move, he knew he was finished. This is it.
But the killing blow never came and instead he felt Tobin roll off of him. When his eyes focused, Jober saw that the Kifzo struggled under the same symptoms, half dragging himself to lean against a nearby wall.
On his knees, Nachun breathed heavily. “I’m sorry, Tobin. I barely had enough strength to send that spell let alone ensure it did not affect you.” The shaman’s voice sounded faint.
The room fell silent as all three men struggled for air. He knew he should try to move as he felt strength return to his limbs but he had little motivation to do anything other than move a hand to his side, hoping the pressure would slow his bleeding. He wasn’t sure why he bothered, he knew he would die.
Maybe if they kill me, they will leave my family alone. What threat is my family with me dead? They think I’m just working on some special project for Bazraki.
Jober grimaced at the lie. He remembered the sparkle in
his wife’s eyes, the pride she had shown when she had found out that he was specifically chosen for the task. Realizing she would discover the truth after tonight, he almost wished for death.
Better than to face her disappointment when she learns the truth. So rather than live, he moved his hand away from his side and waited to die. But death is often fickle and sometimes slow. And while he waited, he listened.
* * *
Control of his limbs slowly returned, and once Tobin had the strength, he propped himself up against the nearest wall, picking up his blade that he had heard clang to the floor following the blinding light. Prepared for the strange man to attack him once again, he readied himself. However, other than his labored breathing, the burly man lay motionless on the stone floor.
Still weak from the sorcery, Tobin decided against finishing the man, worried the stranger feigned his condition. He remained cautious, eyes searching for any sudden movement.
Tobin glanced at the shaman; a man he had thought was his friend, someone he could trust. But now he didn’t know what to think. He felt betrayed, confused, and angered. Yet his concern for the shaman, a man who had befriended him when no one else would, decided his response. Nachun’s eyes were sunk into an already lean face and his dark skin seemed to have paled noticeably. The features of the shaman’s face even looked foreign, unlike any other Heshan he had ever seen. He squinted into the gloom and shook his head, not sure if he was still feeling the effects of sorcery. “Nachun? Are you alright?”
The shaman nodded, closing his eyes. Opening them, he seemed to look more like himself. “I will be eventually,” he answered in a whisper.
“What happened?”
“I’m sorry. He had your knife and I was too weak to isolate the spell’s effects.” He swallowed.
Tobin looked at the man on the floor and then back to Nachun. “That’s not what I meant. What are you doing down here? And what did you do with Kaz?”
Nachun coughed, then sighed. “I was trying to solve both of our problems.” He paused. “But you distracted me at such a crucial point. I warned them that the results could be terrible if that happened.” He looked at the two bodies lying near the doorway, each cooling in their own pool of blood, and snorted.
Rise and Fall (Book 1) Page 18
