Blood of the Lost: The Darkness Within Saga: Book 2

by JD Franx

  “My sentence commuted, either banishment or life inside this cell. I don’t care which, but if I hang, you won’t find her. Second, all my Legacy passes to Kyro. No exceptions. Once I have a contract in hand, I’ll tell you where Katarina is, and how to get her back. That won’t be as easy as you think, Master Wizard, but what do you say?” Lircang flashed an enigmatic smile, but covered in human waste, it didn’t have the desired effect.

  Seifer sneered with contempt, instead. “I’ll have to call the city and guard councils back to session, Lircang. They won’t agree, not to reducing your sentence.”

  “You better try.” Lircang moaned as Kern and the rookie guardsman lifted his chair back into a sitting position and then cut him free. “You have plenty of goodwill coming your way, especially after letting young Kael deal with your pirate problem. Never thought I’d live to see a DeathWizard walk free in Talohna,” he chuckled.

  Seifer knew his stunned and puzzled expression told Lircang everything he needed. “Oh, you didn’t know. Tell you what, I’ll throw in a little DeathWizard historical knowledge for free as part of our deal. I’m sure when the ArchWizard gets here, you’ll want to have a respectable excuse ready for why you let such a creature walk away free as a bird!” Lircang’s chuckle shifted to a cackle as Seifer stormed from the basement prison, the hysterical laughter followed him.

  Seifer’s apprentice, Kittrix Dawn, had just finished her own interrogation of Lircang’s madame. Washing the grime and blood from her hands in the wash basin inside Seifer’s office, she scrubbed her skin relentlessly as she struggled to hold back the tears brought on by her own actions. Splashing her face with water, she took a deep breath, just as Seifer entered the office. Grabbing a towel from the rack beside the basin she dried her face and stepped aside, giving her mentor the chance to freshen up.

  With his own hands turning the water red and then black, he sighed. “It never gets easier, Kit. Even after two hundred years, interrogation wears a body out faster than most magic.”

  “Torture is hard work, Master, for those who inflict it, as well as for those who receive it. Yet it must be done. Did you find her? Did he tell you?” she asked, handing him the towel as he turned.

  “No, not without lessening his sentence. Dahlea?” He raised his eyebrow in the hopes the Madame knew where the love of his life was located.

  “I’m sorry, Master,” Kit said, shaking her head. “She knows nothing about Katarina. I do know where the money from the stolen slaves is hidden, as well as the list of illegal buyers who purchased them. We’ll have to petition the Eye for help, Master Seifer. It’s too much for us alone. It’ll take months to track down and the free people they took. Dasal would be defenceless against magic in our absence.”

  “Fair enough. I suspect the ArchWizard will be here within a matter of days anyway. We’ll pass it to him. There are Cethosian citizens on that list?” he asked.

  “Yes, Master, dozens, but why would Master Giddeon come here?”

  “Unless I cracked Lircang’s brain, it seems that Kael may be a DeathWizard. It’ll fall under Giddeon’s jurisdiction, just like the names from Lircang’s illegal slaving.” Kit frowned, and Seifer could see she ached to say something. “Something you’d like to add, apprentice?”

  “No, Master. I apologize.” She bowed out of respect for over-stepping her bounds.

  Seifer sat at the chair behind his desk and stared at his young apprentice. The talented sixteen-year-old could go far, especially under his tutelage, but he worried her former Master had been a hard man. “Why did you volunteer to come to Dasal? You had a Master Wizard, a good one, too. You were the only volunteer. The other three apprentices were put up as part of a punishment detail. Why does a twelve year old girl volunteer to apprentice with a Master Wizard in the Free Lands? You may speak freely, Kit, with no concerns.”

  “I had hoped things would be different here, Master.”

  “And are they?” he asked, judging her actions and facial expressions.

  “Yes, Master, they are. I love being here. I’ve never been happier.”

  “Good, I’m glad. Now stow the University etiquette bullshit and speak your mind. That’s what the Gods gave it to you for, didn’t they?”

  “Yes, Master,” she replied, shock settling over her features, but her eyes lit up with excitement.

  “I assume you’d like to remain here under my tutelage?” he asked, getting an emphatic nod. “Then if you have something to say, speak. The Eye has no power here and they hold no sway in the Free Lands. Why do you think I came here?” he asked with a smile.

  “Yes, Master,” Kit said beaming with delight. “I just wanted to ask you... If... If Kael is a DeathWizard, shouldn’t we be dead?”

  Siefer laughed, an honest, hearty laugh. It felt good. “Your first lesson on your first real day as a Free Land’s apprentice... What is actually true and what the officials of Talohna tell its citizens is true, can often be two very different things—though, I have always believed the same when it came to DeathWizards. I helped Giddeon subdue the last two—my magic kept Giddeon alive after he was attacked. And I’ve read countless documented accounts of a DeathWizard’s brutality. That being said, it probably means Lircang is spinning a lie. We’ll know if the ArchWizard shows up, because he’ll be doing everything in his power to catch and kill Kael.” The conflict of emotion was written all over his face.

  “Are the rumours true, Master Locke?”

  “Which?”

  Kit hesitated, but only for a second. “At the Eye, before you came to get me, I heard that you originally left for Dasal because you and the ArchWizard hated each other. That he was jealous of your power and refused to let you Trial for ArchWizard. That you’re more powerful than he is.” Her eyes darted to the side, as an embarrassed smile crept onto her face.

  Seifer sighed, chuckling. “Apprentices and their rumours. No, the ArchWizard and I have been very close friends since we were children together at the Eye. Oripar Lightfoot, Giddeon, and I were known as the Prodigal Trinity. We were brothers in every sense of the word. You know the story about the night Professor Lightfoot died?” Kit nodded without interrupting. “I was there, as well. My magic extended the portal long enough for Giddeon to return from the other dimension. Oripar was one of three Elvehn mystics who anchored the portal. He died with the others but not before he held the gateway open on his own for several seconds. The ArchWizard and I will always be close friends, at least I would hope. I came to Dasal because I don’t like politics and I was being seriously looked at as a successor for the Third Pillar. I have no interest in becoming the King’s Wizard. The Pillars of Rule even creep the shit out of me; I sure as Nine Hells don’t want to be one. Also, I have no interest in being ArchWizard. I’ve been to the Forsaken lands several times and have run the ArchWizard Trials many times while overseeing those who have died trying to pass them. If I wanted the title, Kit, I’d have it. As for who is more powerful, it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

  His apprentice lifted her eyes and stared at him. Seifer knew what was coming before she even opened her mouth, but he let her ask any way. “It might matter, Master, if he asks you to help him hunt down Kael. He saved this city, from pirates and from a rot within our own walls. You can’t help him, Master. It’s not right!” Realizing she was yelling at her Master Wizard, Kit dropped to her knees, slapping her hands over mouth. “I’m so sorry, Master, forgive me. I shouldn’t...” she mumbled through her hands.

  Rising to his feet, and stepping around his desk, Seifer grabbed her arm and gently lifted her back up. “I asked you to speak your mind. I’m not going to punish you for obeying my commands. If Giddeon shows up here, he won’t receive our help to hunt down Kael. Who could I send? No one would go.” He laughed. “But we have more important things to worry about now. Come, we have two councils to convince that it would be a good idea to let Lircang Yorcali live. Waking them in the middle of the night is going to be a poor start.”

  AVELERA CIT
Y, ELLORYA.

  SOUTHERN KINGDOM

  TARTS OF KALLI WHOREHOUSE

  The door to Kyro Yorcali’s room swung open with a loud crash. Secure in his own little world, he merely lifted his head from the soft satin pillow to see who had caused the ruckus. Not surprised in the least, he shook his head.

  “What is it, Niko? Care to join us this fine morning?” he asked, slapping the bare ass of the woman lying face down to his right. “I’m sure we can make room for you.” He smirked, pushing over the young woman on his left.

  “Nope,” Niko smirked. “You know the answer to that before you asked. Drinking and whoring are your vice.”

  “Damn, woman, you need to learn how to enjoy life a little.” Exasperated, he lay back, closing his eyes.

  “You enjoy it enough for both of us, boss. I’ll stick to keeping you alive. Speakin’ of which, you might wanna drag that ass of yours outta bed. Emperor Mero’s messenger is downstairs. Any chance of earning an audience with his Holy Righteous Asshole will walk out the door along with his man in about... Oh, sixty seconds.” Kyro bolted up, tossing a pillow at his most trusted companion and the highest ranking captain in his organization, but succeeded only in knocking one of the women in the bed to the floor.

  Niko Sattori chuckled, tossing her long black hair as she strolled out the door, laughing even harder as Kyro’s words chased after her.

  “You evil bitch. Don’t you think you should have started with that informat...” His words were cut short to the sound of crashing furniture and more swearing drifted out into the hall.

  “Serves me damned right for making that cursed woman my right hand,” Kyro mumbled, as he tried to untangle his right leg from the left arm sleeve of his long jacket, having mistook it for his trousers in the hurried attempt to not miss the emperor’s messenger. The alcohol-induced, pounding in his head was not helping matters either. For days, he had waited for a reply to come from the emperor, but with the yearly gladiator tournament being held during the last week, it had taken until the tourney’s last day to finally get a reply. Kyro couldn’t afford to let the chance slip by. Forcing his thick head to co-operate, he was dressed and out the door in under thirty seconds.

  “Ha!” he barked at Niko, slapping her ass as he passed. Hurrying down the stairs, she followed after him without saying a word, a smile still dancing on her lips.

  As Kyro rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes immediately shifted to the Emperor’s messenger, or more importantly, to the six-man guard of crossbow-armed Elites who accompanied him. Straightening his clothes, he approached with caution, but was addressed before he could welcome them to his establishment.

  “Kyro Yorcali?” the messenger asked, his voice tainted with disgust.

  “I am. You’ve brought good news, I assume?”

  “Good news? Well, perhaps.” One of the guards, dressed in white bone armour with the blazing red sash worn by all the emperor’s men, held out a rolled and sealed document also wrapped in red as the messenger continued. “This writ is signed by Emperor Mero. Show it to the guards stationed at the Nobles’ Gate on the Arena’s west side. They will escort you to the Gods’ Balcony where Emperor Mero has agreed to watch the noon executions and afternoon matches with you and one guest. This is an incredible honour, Kyro Yorcali. Arrive by the high sun today or not at all.”

  “Fair enough. We shall be there,” Kyro said, smiling at the good news.

  “The Emperor has cleared the balcony, insulting several of Ellorya’s noble families. He wants you to know that the debt he owes your father is now flush. If you are not at the arena by the high sun, you will not leave Ellorya alive. Are we in clear understanding, Kyro Yorcali?”

  “We are. Tell Emperor Mero, I’ll be there.”

  “Excellent,” the messenger replied, offering a fake smile. “Then I suggest you find proper attire for yourself and your guest of choice. You will be seen in public with the Emperor after all.” Kyro nodded, as the man and his guard left the Tarts of Kalli.

  Niko scoffed as the door closed behind the emperor’s men. “You had better know what you’re doing, Kyro, or we’ll both end up in that gods-forsaken arena.”

  “You worry too much, Niko. You’re far too pretty to be thrown into the arena. I’m sure the Emperor’s harem is a far more likely destination,” he chuckled, and then ducked, but still was not quite fast enough as the woman’s fist crashed into his shoulder instead of his jaw. His left arm went numb as he raised his right hand in surrender, then bowed and returned to his room. The first part of his plan was completed.

  He hoped his father had been just as successful on his end of the plan back in Dasal.

  DASAL, FREE LANDS

  All assassins did extensive research and recon when they were on the hunt. It was safer that way, even for members of the infamous mystical guild known only as the Broken Blades. Frightening magical killers from Talohna’s oldest and darkest myths, Broken Blade assassins never failed. Upon agreement, one Broken Blade contract equalled one patron, one killer, and one corpse. Targets were never discussed. Targets could be missed or could escape. With the Broken Blades this could not happen. A Blade never gave up the hunt until they had their corpse. If they become a corpse themselves, more Blades were sent.

  Broken Blade senior councillor member, Merethyl Bellas, watched from the far side of the street as two wizards departed the Dasal city barracks. Even though she had never met either personally, Seifer Locke and Kittrix Dawn were well known to Merethyl because of her research, and she did not care to cross paths with either, let alone both. She knew that Seifer Locke’s magic ran heavy with the Elderblood that enabled him to enhance any magic near him, including his own. She frowned at the idea of fighting the pair once Seifer enhanced their magic.

  As Seifer and Kit turned the corner and disappeared from view, a coy grin and a simple nod from the Broken Blade Queen spurred her two hiding killers to action. Sliding through the shadows, both soundlessly entered the barracks as Merethyl kept watch outside. Sixty seconds passed before the door re-opened and two puffs of magical flame lit up the darkened doorway, prompting her to move. Sliding through the shadows unseen, she reached the barracks as Pok waved from the far stairwell entrance.

  “Here, Merethyl,” he whispered. “Yorcali’s on this side, the whore on the other.”

  “Good work,” she nodded. “Send your rat to watch the door, we’ll go down.” Pok nodded at his apprentice, a young girl of fifteen years named Lany. She frowned, but did as she was asked. Merethyl noticed the girl’s objection. It merely added to her dislike of Pok’s orphan. Leading the way down into the dungeon, Pok said nothing. The two women and their hatred of each other was common knowledge, yet it never interfered with guild business. The guild always came first.

  Merethyl stepped onto the stone floor of the dungeon and wrinkled her nose at the evasive odour, the stench tripled in strength from the top of the stairs. Ignoring it, her eyes settled on the first cell and its occupant.

  “Lircang Yorcali,” she mocked, laughing in a little girl’s voice as she approached the barred cell. “Such a fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into, love. I don’t like cleaning messes, you fat Kariyan bastard. Especially other fool’s messes.”

  Free from the chair he had spent the last eighteen hours tied to, Lircang looked up through swollen eyes. “Merethyl? What are you doing here?”

  “You’re sitting in one of the most vile dungeons in Talohna when you have an agreement with myself and Sythrnax. What else would I be doing here? Taking a lovely late winter vacation in Talohna’s beautiful city of Dasal?” Her calm and cool demeanour sent undulating shivers of fear through Lircang. His reaction brought a quiet smile of pleasure to Merethyl’s lips.

  “No. Mer... I... I didn’t say anything, Merethyl. You know that. I wouldn’t—” The assassin held up her hand to silence him.

  “Then why would the town wizard and his lapdog bitch be heading towards the mansion district of Dasal at three o�
�clock in the morning? Perhaps the remaining council members are ready for their pre-dawn magical massage? Is that it?”

  “No! I—” But again, Merethyl didn’t let him finish.

  “Where’s your son, Yorcali?”

  “Merethyl?” Lircang asked innocently, but his quivering tongue gave away his nervousness.

  “Your son, you fat fool. Where in this gods-forsaken world is your bastard son?” For the first time in years, true anger crept into her normally stoic voice.

  “On trade business, Merethyl. Meeting with slave contacts.”

  Merethyl lunged through the bars and grasped Lircang by the neck, pulling him towards her until the fat of his face enveloped the bars. “You’re lying, you sack of shit. I can’t find him anywhere,” she growled. “Tell me what he’s up to. Now! And I’ll have Sythrnax make all this crap you’ve brought on us go away.”

  To her surprise, Lircang scoffed. “Now who’s lying, Merethyl? I always knew I’d end up dead on your wooden blade. It’s a price I’ve always been willing to pay. You’ll never find Kyro; he’s beyond even your reach, and when he returns, your mysterious benefactor won’t be able to hurt him or ruin what we’ve done.”

  Full of confidence, the slaver smirked at the assassin queen, but it soon turned to a frown as Merethyl smiled back. “Ah, but I will. You just told me where your son is, which puts him well within my reach.”

  The blood drained from Lircang’s face as he realized his mistake, but he was unable to speak.

  “What’s the matter, slaver?” she teased. “Snowcat got your tongue? Out of my reach? You’re slipping, Yorcali. Ellorya is the only country without a Blade sanctuary. Sent your boy to collect on an old debt from Emperor Mero, did you? Perfect. I can kill both of them with one trip south.”

  With a shove, she released the man’s throat and sent him crashing to the floor.

  “Pok?” she asked. The newly-elected Broken Blade Commander turned towards her from the other cells, his wooden blade dripped blood, but it was intact. “Kill this weasel so we can go, please. And don’t use a Broken Blade. Sythrnax doesn’t want any more attention headed our way.” Pok nodded but said nothing as he used a key from the wall upstairs to unlock Lircang’s cell. The Kariyan slave trader whimpered, begging for his life as he shuffled to the back of his cell. Pok cornered Lircang at the rear wall.