The Silver Portal (Weapons of Power Book 1)

by David J Normoyle

  When he reached the first turning, he paused and listened for the sound of footsteps as Father returned to Bluegrass.

  All he heard was weeping.

  Chapter 11

  The sun disappeared over the horizon, and the shadows of twilight flowed up the walls and across the rooftops, chasing the day’s light away while being pursued by night’s darkness.

  The disquiet inside Lukin was alien to him. He would have expected the elation of the heist on Lord Jearg’s mansion to still be with him, even two days later. But too much was happening that he didn’t understand.

  Luckily, he knew the cure for worry. Bold action. He wouldn’t let the cluster of threatening-looking men gathered at the entrance to Pormustin’s manor deflect him.

  He adjusted the satchel under his cloak, shifting it toward his back so it wasn’t obvious, and walked up to the gateway. A merchant in a house that size should have maybe one guard at most.

  Closer, the flare of the torchlight revealed that they weren’t guards. Rather, they were redbirds. That answered one question and presented a stranger one. What are a dozen redbirds doing outside a merchant’s manor?

  “I’m here to see Pormustin,” Lukin said as soon as he was close enough to be heard.

  The redbird whom he had addressed moved aside, and another came forward to confront Lukin. The redbirds wore both breastplates and helms. Are they expecting an army to arrive in the middle of the night and attack the manor? The redbird confronting him was a raven-crest, too high a rank to be doing guard duty.

  “He’s not expecting you,” the raven-crest said.

  “He’ll want to see me.”

  “No.” Ull Rohaim doesn’t want to be disturbed under any circumstances, the raven-crest thought.

  The ull honorific meant eagle-crest. How many of Zubrios’s top clerics are hiding in that one small manor?

  “I have something he wants.” Guerin had indicated that Pormustin was selling to the Order. Yet the clerics are swarming all over the place? The Armentell Order and the Lord Protector were sworn enemies. Nothing was making sense.

  “I’ll give it to him.” The raven-crest held out his hand.

  “No. I think you’ll find—”

  “I think you’ll find your blood all over the street if you don’t leave.” The raven-crest drew his sword and pointed it at Lukin’s throat. “Leave me whatever you have for Pormustin.”

  “I don’t have it with me.” Lukin backed away. “Sorry for disturbing you.”

  “So you don’t have anything important? That’s what I thought.”

  As soon as he was out of sight of the raven-crest, a man as quick to draw his sword as Flechir, Lukin paused to consider. Something was going on, and he was going to find out what. Getting refused entry through the front was only a minor hiccup to a bona-fide master thief such as himself. After a successful venture against Lord Jearg’s mansion, a little manor—even if it hid more clerics than a scarlet temple—wasn’t going to stand in his way.

  Unfortunately, both manors on either side of Pormustin’s showed no obvious way of getting in without being spotted by the redbirds. Thus, Lukin began to meander through the maze of cobbled streets of the merchant’s quarter, hoping to circle around to a back or side entrance.

  Despite the darkness and the way the streets in that part of Soirbuz swerved back on top of each other, Lukin had no trouble keeping track of where he was in relation to the manor. That was due to the compass in his head—rather, the four compasses.

  Together, they were one of the many things Lukin didn’t understand about recent events. They had to be related to his ring in some way, though they didn’t disappear when he removed the ring for a few moments. One pointed north just like a hand compass did, or almost north. Instead of a needle, his compass was like a mental thread in his mind, a sensation pulling north.

  If it had been one compass, he would have accepted it as just another gift from the magical ring and not thought too much about it. However, he had a second mental thread pulling east, another pulling southeast, and the final one pulling southwest. Why am I being tugged in four directions?

  Another matter that had him confused was that word of his heist hadn’t spread. Dozens of people must have seen him run after that carriage, and the carriage driver and nobleman had both seen him run off with the goblet. In the taverns the past two nights, Lukin had been expecting to savor being the only one to know the true thief as the tale of the daring robbery was told. However, the only thing he got to savor was the next morning’s hangover.

  Not many others wandered the cobblestone streets that night, and those who did gave each other a wide berth. Not many taverns or other venues of the night resided in the merchant’s quarter. A cheeky kid made a face at Lukin through a window—Lukin stuck out his tongue at him—and a dog sniffed near Lukin’s feet then went off looking for someone better smelling.

  After several dead ends, Lukin eventually found an alley that curved near the back of Pormustin’s manor. He crept onto the grounds of an ugly-shaped house—Lukin could only see the silhouette, but a tall, skinny chimney in the middle of a blocky roof was an affront to all sense of style. The residents were inside, and Lukin resisted the urge to knock and tell them about the roof, instead creeping around the side to their back fence.

  He peered over the fence at the manor on the other side and nodded to himself. He was in the correct place. The master thief had done it again. He’d have to consider promoting himself if his successes continued, though he wasn’t sure what the rank above master thief was. With no street access, the redbirds hadn’t thought to guard the back, so Lukin hopped over the fence and edged toward the back of the house. One ground-floor window blazed with light. Lukin sank to his belly and snaked through the grass toward it. The satchel with the goblet got caught against the ground, and he adjusted it before continuing.

  He wriggled himself into a bed of flowers then stopped. Inside the lit room, a single cleric sat on a comfortable armchair, a wooden puzzle box in his hand. The cleric wore no armor, though his scarlet cloak hung from his shoulders. He was in his forties with thick black hair, badly cut, and a thin mustache. Some people are born ugly, and some people make themselves ugly, Lukin thought. A fire blazed in the corner, and a large table took up most of the other side of the room, a vase of red and white flowers in its center.

  Rather a boring scene to come all this way for. Wetness from the grass had soaked into Lukin’s clothing, chilling his skin. Surely, bold actions were rewarded with better than watching a forty-year-old fiddle with a wooden box, a serene expression on his face.

  For a while, it seemed not. Then the door opened, and another scarlet-cloaked cleric entered.

  “Ull Dreidnan,” the second cleric said.

  Ull Dreidnan put his box to the side, rose, and bowed his head. “Ull Rohaim. Any news?”

  From the way they greeted each other, Ull Rohaim was the superior, though both had earned the honorific ull. Lukin could see the golden crests on their breasts, though not well enough to make out the profile of an eagle’s head that signified an eagle-crest.

  “Kreesta Lornall is on her way back to Yalsomme with her father.” Ull Rohaim was a tall man, of a similar age to Ull Dreidnan, and he stood with a straight spine, shoulders flared back. His nose and chin were long and would look overlarge on another man’s face but suited his thin one. His receding red hair only covered the area above his ears and the back of his head.

  “Lord Jearg’s bride-to-be? Why?” Ull Dreidnan sank back into his armchair.

  Lukin’s ears perked up. The woman he’d met in Jearg’s Mansion had a name. Kreesta. He licked his lips. Over the last few days, when he hadn’t been drinking, he’d been daydreaming about her.

  “She received some insult to her person at the engagement ball.” Ull Rohaim shook his head. “She claims it was impossible to bear.”

  “What was it?”

  “Lord Jearg is likely to grope a female statue, so it could be any
thing. It’s just an excuse, though. Kreesta and Lord Lornall simply discovered that Jearg didn’t have the power they thought he did. I know the type. Kreesta Lornall would crawl naked through pig swill if it meant getting closer to the center of power.”

  Lukin suspected he should jump to his feet and defend her honor. They had formed a special relationship that night, after all. But the image that Ull Rohaim dredged up of her crawling naked through... Lukin was a bad person, because that simply aroused him rather than making him want to defend her.

  “What happens now? Jearg still wants to get married?” Ull Dreidnan asked.

  “Can you believe that he asked for the next one to have even bigger tits? That Lornall woman threatened to topple forward every time she stood up.” Ull Rohaim grimaced. “Next time, we’ll make sure the marriage happens before either has a chance to change their mind.”

  Ull Dreidnan picked up his puzzle box again, weighing it in his hand. “And the Eorne Goblet going missing? Was that related to Lornall ending the engagement?”

  “It appears not. Should we have trusted the merchant to handle it?”

  “Pormustin hasn’t let us down before.”

  “A foolproof plan, he told us. Did he tell you the details?” Ull Rohaim went to the window and stared out, looking straight at the flowerbed where Lukin was hiding.

  Lukin froze, but the cleric turned without noticing him.

  “It did seem rather ingenious to me,” Ull Dreidnan said. “Lord Jearg wouldn’t just give it up to us. So Pormustin arranged for a thief but made him think the Order hired him. If the thief succeeded, then we take the goblet and kill him. If the thief was captured, then we’d persuade Jearg that the Order was after it and that he needed to give it to us for safekeeping.”

  Ull Rohaim considered. “Overcomplicating matters, perhaps. What went wrong?”

  “Still trying to figure that out. We’ve managed to keep quiet that it’s missing, and Pormustin is searching for a young thief who might have answers.”

  Lukin’s hand drifted back to touch the goblet under his cloak. His spying was turning out to be worth the chill—he was getting the answers to the questions causing his disquiet. Unfortunately, the answers were causing his disquiet to turn to fear—or would have if he weren’t immune to such things as a fearless adventurer. They had intended to kill him after he gave up the goblet. And Pormustin was searching for him. It was just as well the raven-crest had turned him away at the entrance.

  “I would like to get my hands on that crystal. Never held one that powerful before,” Ull Dreidnan said.

  “It is needed at the tomb.” The words came from a third man, just entering.

  Ull Dreidnan sprang to his feet, and both he and Ull Rohaim bowed low. Lukin would have fallen if he wasn’t already lying down, because standing not five paces away was Lord Protector Zubrios himself.

  His face was worn, but he didn’t move like an old man. His silver-white hair flowed down to his shoulders. Streaks of black ran through his well-trimmed beard. He wore a long white jacket with gold clasps—simple and elegant—and black pants.

  He circled Ull Rohaim and Ull Dreidnan, moving with a slow, commanding step.

  Behind him, another cleric entered. He slouched against the wall, by the door.

  “Lord Protector, I didn’t mean—” Ull Dreidnan started.

  “Of course you didn’t,” Lord Zubrios said.

  “And I will retrieve the—”

  “Of course you will. I haven’t come about the crystal. There are more important matters.”

  “There are?” Ull Rohaim asked. “Isn’t the crystal from the Eorne Goblet essential for your work at the tomb?”

  Lord Zubrios stopped circling and faced his clerics. “The portal will be formed sooner or later. First, there are more immediate concerns. The spell has been cast.”

  “The weapons-of-power spell?” Ull Dreidnan asked.

  “Of course the weapons of power, fool,” said the cleric by the door. He was younger than the others, mid-thirties, with thick straw-blond hair as long as a woman’s. He’d never be mistaken for one, though, wide at the shoulders with big hands and masculine features. “What other spell would the Lord Protector be concerned about?”

  “Peace, Ull Axilium,” Lord Zubrios said.

  Ull Dreidnan glared at Ull Axilium such that the other cleric would have fallen over dead if looks could kill. And with all those magic users in one room, perhaps looks could kill.

  Lukin didn’t know much about magic, and he just had to hope that the Lord Protector didn’t have an instantly-kill-all-eavesdropping-master-thieves spell up his sleeve. Lord Zubrios was the most powerful person to walk the ground of Mageles since Mezziall, and he was well on his way to controlling the whole continent and being proclaimed a god like his predecessor.

  The fearless-adventurer immunity obviously didn’t apply to situations like the one in which Lukin found himself, and he would have run away screaming like a little girl if any part of his body were still under his control. Mental note to self: after regaining control of body, keep silent and hidden—no screaming.

  “The wizards actually succeeded,” Ull Rohaim said. “I didn’t think them capable.”

  “They surprised even themselves,” Lord Zubrios said. “However, it didn’t go as they expected. The wizards and the Order chose five warriors to bear the five weapons, but something went wrong. The weapons have been spread across the continent, and no one knows who has them.”

  On Lukin’s left hand, his ring felt heavy. The gold soaked in the light coming from the manor rather than reflecting it. A ring couldn’t be a weapon, could it?

  “They’ll be hard to find if no one knows where they are,” Ull Rohaim said.

  “We don’t know who has them, but we can find them.” Lord Zubrios reached into his pocket and took out two small crystals, one blue and one green. He pocketed the green one and held the blue one between his forefinger and thumb. “The spell was cast five days ago, but I received this an hour ago. My agents within the Invisible Towers managed to steal it and smuggle it out. It can track the weapons.” He handed it across to Ull Rohaim. “I want you three to find the weapons of power for me.”

  “Give me the crystal,” Ull Axilium said. “I don’t need these old women to slow me down.”

  “You haven’t gained the ability to portal since we last met, have you?” Ull Rohaim asked coldly.

  Ull Axilium shrugged. “I can find some hawk-crest with portal-mage abilities to be my carriage driver.”

  “Ull Rohaim will be the leader in this task,” Lord Zubrios said. “The weapons bond to whoever first touches them, so it’s important to capture the bearers alive if at all possible. Keep me informed of your progress.” He swept out of the room.

  “Let me know when you have discovered the weapons’ locations,” Ull Axilium said before following the Lord Protector out.

  Ull Dreidnan moved closer to Ull Rohaim, both studying the small blue crystal. “Does it work like a comstal?”

  “It doesn’t seem to,” Ull Rohaim told him. “Perhaps if I touch it with magic.” His head dipped, and his forehead furrowed in concentration. “I’m getting something.”

  “It’s working?”

  “Seems to be. And one of the weapons is close, definitely within the city, perhaps even inside the merchant’s quarter. It’ll take time to associate the magnitude of the vibrations I sense with a distance.”

  Lukin moved one elbow backward, then a knee, creeping as slowly and silently as he knew how. He had to get out. The Eorne Goblet was in his satchel, and that alone could get him killed. But that was nothing compared to having on his finger a weapon of power that the Lord Protector wanted.

  “Retrieving the first weapon should be easy if it’s in the city,” Ull Dreidnan said. “We need to make sure it doesn’t get out. I’ve already spread an alert about the thief. I’ll send further instructions to the gatehouses.” He left the room.

  Lukin slithered backward until
he was fully out of sight of the window. The wetness of the grass barely registered. He was out of his depth, with no clue what to do. Even a master thief had limitations.

  Only one person could help him, though asking for help would involve a large serving of humble pie. Flechir had gotten him out of trouble before.

  Chapter 12

  The sun shined brighter, the birds sang sweeter, and the flowers bloomed prettier. Everything became wonderful in Lord Dondolier’s arms. His lips nuzzled her neck. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her blood pulsed like liquid fire in her veins. His green eyes sparkled like emerald fire. Her fingers went to his cheek, tilting his face toward her.

  Lord Dondolier hesitated, but she couldn’t bear waiting any longer, not after everything they’d been through. The kiss shouldn’t happen until after their marriage, but her soul embraced him, letting him know that it was the moment. He leaned forward, his lips racing toward her, just as hers did to him. An explosion of—

  The door crashed open.

  “Go away.” Suma didn’t look up.

  The book was dragged from her fingers and thrown onto the bed.

  “Hey, careful.” Suma crawled across the bed and smoothed out the twisted pages. “What do you think you are doing?”

  A sheen of sweat covered Lucii’s face, and his chest rose and fell unevenly. “Forget the blasted book. This is serious.”

  “The blasted book indeed.” Suma closed it and caressed the leather cover. “If I had a choice between my family and my books, I’d choose the books. At least they don’t let me down.” Eveleen met Lord Dondolier each and every time.

  Lucii threw a half-filled leather holdall beside the bed. “Quickly. Put everything you consider essential for a long journey in that. Or as much as can fit.” He saw where her gaze traveled. “And I don’t mean the bloody book.”