Treachery in the Kingdom

by Dan Zangari

  “I have it,” Nath answers. “It’s with the rest of my gear, wrapped in my cloak.”

  “So, what’s the plan?” Tilthan asks as he leans back in the chair while staring at the ceiling. “Are we ready to get to work? I can’t wait to enjoy my loot.”

  “Yes,” Iltar relaxes, leaning back in the chair. “I don’t know where it is, but I know the mages are keeping it. I spoke with my half-brother and he confirmed they are its keepers.”

  “What is this, it?” Tilthan asks while shaking his head, “Wait! Maybe I don’t want to know, so, encase this goes awry I won’t be punished too severely.”

  Nath and Nemral glance to Tilthan then return their attention to the necromancer.

  Ignoring Tilthan’s attempt at humor, Iltar says, “I’ve bought us some time. We have about three weeks left before the Agents of the Order dispatched to Soroth and Merdan discover the truth. Each has rogulin crystals that will enable them to return to the Estate immediately.”

  In response to the information, Nemral and Nath straighten their postures with concerned expressions smeared across their faces.

  “I told them that Alacor was the necromancer trying to re-forge the amulet. For now, the majority of the council believed my story, and I have been granted asylum within Alath and this kingdom–”

  “Whoa!” Tilthan shouts. “That means if you get caught they’re going to imprison you within The Castle! Iltar, that was a huge mistake…”

  “I’m not going to get caught,” Iltar barks while glaring at Tilthan. “Let me finish. I’m working as an instructor in the illusionary school and am building a close relationship with its headmaster, who also occupies a seat on the council. In time, I will learn what I need to know.

  “But, in the meantime, I want each of you to scout the Estate. Wherever they are keeping it must be well protected, and hidden.

  “Rinden eluded that the council members are the only ones who know about the amulet’s location. So, I would assume that wherever the next piece is located, it must be in a very secret place.”

  Nath is the first to speak up and speculates, “So, since you’re not telling us exactly what it is, I take it you want us to find a secret vault of sorts, then find you?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Well boys, how do we want to do this?” Tilthan asks while sitting upright. “The faster we get this done, the better.”

  “We can’t all go out at once,” Nemral says in a matter-of-fact tone. “Dendra will be suspicious.”

  “She will be suspicious when one of us isn’t here all the time,” Nath frankly retorts. “We can sneak out at night, spend several hours scouting the guild. Then come back here.”

  “That will make it easier to maneuver around the Estate,” Iltar interjects. “I’ve gone out at night several times. There are only a handful of guards patrolling the grounds, and two stationed at each gate.”

  “Then let’s do it at night!” Tilthan loudly exclaims.

  “Quiet!” Iltar snaps at the thief.

  “No one can hear us,” Tilthan smiles slyly at Iltar. “There is at least one phineal of solid stone beneath us.”

  “How should we contact you after we find this vault?” Nath asks.

  “Come to my suite in the Estate. I will keep the door unlocked, suite eighty seven; it’s in the dormitories on the northern side of the Estate, the west building on the third floor. When you enter the main doors, go up the stairs then head right, and it’ll be on your left.

  “Now I better get back. Almar is most likely looking for me.”

  With that said, Iltar rises to his feat while reaching within his tunic to grab Nemral’s lenses; he gracefully tosses the magical spectacles to the thief then walks toward the door.

  “Almar?” Nemral asks with surprise while catching his lenses. He looks to Nath then Tilthan, and quizzically demands, “Almar?!”

  Amid Nemral’s verbal quandary, Iltar opens the door and quickly exits the room, leaving the three thieves alone.

  Once Iltar leaves, Nemral skeptically asks, “This can’t be the same Almar, can it?”

  Tilthan shrugs and nestles himself into his chair while Nath says, “It would make sense… he would be about the same age as Iltar.”

  “That name sounds so familiar,” Tilthan aloofly mumbles, relaxing his head against the chair’s cushions.

  “It should!” Nath retorts with a tone of realization. “Have you never heard of the grand mage who killed Klis’ overlords during their revolution? The son of one of Alath’s most powerful mages, the one who crippled the Mindolarn Empire.”

  “Huh?” Tilthan asks with a blank expression across his face.

  “Yeah!” Nath exclaims while shaking his head, “Adrin’s son!”

  “You didn’t pay attention in history classes, did you?” Nemral asks then adds, “You know, the Hero of the West, Adrin.”

  Amid his thieving counterparts’ remarks, Tilthan continues to stare aloofly at them.

  “Tilthan,” Nath sighs and shakes his head, “You’re hopeless… So, Almar is Iltar’s brother—that’s so bizarre!”

  “Heroes and a villain?” Nemral muses. “They save the world, and Iltar wants to rule it. Ironic…”

  “Well, that explains why Iltar is so powerful,” Nath speculates while turning toward the apartment’s door.

  “Who cares,” Tilthan waves his hand. “We’re getting paid, and that’s all that matters.”

  14

  Unsettling Breakthrough

  On the same evening Iltar met with the thieves, Griffith, Regas and Bredan travel through Klath; they ride their magically composed steeds in formation, galloping along the city’s western highway at speeds twice that of an average horse.

  As the Agents of the Order speed through the street, many of Klath’s citizens worriedly talk amongst themselves; mages on horseback were not a common sight, let alone three traveling together at unnatural speeds.

  The last rays of sunlight fade in the east as the agents near the docking district’s easternmost gate.

  Griffith leads the others down one of two curving ramps that descend twelve phineals into a squared courtyard housing the gate; two Frontier Guardsmen stand at attention beneath burning lamps, the only sources of light in the courtyard.

  Once near the gate, Griffith says with a salute, “Hail, Guardsmen!” He steadies his steed while reaching into his robe to his tunic.

  “The docks are closed,” the nearest guard coldly replies. “You will have to come back in the morning.”

  Agitated by the guard, Bredan canters his horse toward the gate, boldly proclaiming, “We are Agents of the Order. Open the gate at once!”

  Griffith glances to Bredan while removing a rolled piece of parchment from his tunic; he motions the parchment toward the guard, “Here. This is a letter from Grandmaster Dorith of the Estate. Please, let us through, it’s urgent.”

  The guardsmen cautiously studies the mages, walks to Griffith and grabs the parchment; with letter in hand, he steps back into the light while unfurling the rolled address.

  After reading the letter the guardsmen looks over his shoulder and shouts to his counterpart, “Open the gate!” He re-rolls the parchment and motions it toward Griffith while saying, “Here, Agent.”

  “Thank you,” Griffith cordially says while nodding, and grabs the letter. “We must speak with the Port Magistrate as soon as possible.”

  “I’ll send for a rider to fetch him,” the guard says. “Head the Port Authority.”

  “Thank you, Guardsman.”

  While the dock’s gate opens, Regas glances to Bredan and scolds, “You don’t have to be so rude Bredan. They are on our side.”

  “Don’t patronize me, Regas…”

  “I am not–”

  “Oh, quit squabbling,” Griffith interrupts cheerily. “Why don’t you two find us a place to stay the night, and when you’re done come find me at the Port Authority.”

  “Alright, but where do you want to stay?”
Regas innocently asks.

  “Oh, it doesn’t matter,” Griffith says while shrugging. “As long as it has a bed and a warm meal in the morning, I’m perfectly happy.”

  “Let’s stay somewhere nice,” Bredan retorts grouchily while rolling his eyes at Griffith’s sense of contentment. “After all, I’m going to be cramped on a ship and staying in a backcountry place like Soroth.”

  Griffith chuckles and grows to a bellowing laugh once the gate completely opens.

  Bredan cocks his head toward the laughing mage, then rides through the gate with Regas close behind him.

  Amid Griffith’s uncontrollable laughter he motions his hand toward the gate, and his magical steed trots forward; once through the gate, it quickens from a canter to a hasty gallop.

  * * * * *

  Two hours later, Griffith relaxes in a comfortable armchair within an office atop the highest floor of the Port Authority’s main building; the lone agent sits in one of four chairs along one side of a long desk made of a dark red wood. Griffith gazes through large floor to ceiling windows opposite the desk, admiring a breathtaking view of the various piers and the sprawling Klath Corridor.

  Amid Griffith’s gazing, creaking hinges reach his ears, followed by a tired deep voice beckoning, “Agent Griffith, I presume.”

  Griffith swiftly turns, looking at the office’s double doors.

  A tall man dressed in a tan informal garb steps through the doorway and closes the doors behind him; his dark hair messily sits atop his long face.

  The man tiredly rubs his short round nose while studying the mage; he clears his throat and continues, “If I would have known you were coming at so late an hour I would have been waiting for you. I apologize for the inconvenience.”

  “It’s fine, Magistrate,” Griffith smiles while rising from his seat, and bows.

  “Forgive me, my name is Fidolin.”

  Griffith smiles and bows once again.

  While Fidolin walks toward Griffith the magistrate asks, “Tell me, what brings you to my office?”

  Once Fidolin reaches the chair beside Griffith, the agent answers, “I came to inquiry about several ships that might have recently come into port.”

  With that said, both men sit and Griffith continues, “The Estate’s council believes these vessels are involved in a grave matter concerning our Kingdom’s safety, and perhaps the entire world.”

  Taken aback at the ominous statement, Fidolin’s eyes widen and he frantically replies, “Surely nothing that terrible has moored in Klath! I would have known if anything sinister were brooding in my port! And I would have sent word to His Majesty–”

  “I know,” Griffith interrupts while extending his hand in a consoling gesture. “The Estate’s council was secretly informed of a potentially devastating plot; I can’t go into great detail with you, only that it involves a necromancer from Soroth–”

  “Soroth?!” Fidolin anxiously blurts then adds warily, “A fleet from Soroth moored nearly a week ago…”

  Surprised, Griffith urgently asks, “Are they still here?”

  “No. They didn’t stay long, nor clearly declare why they were in port; they mentioned a fugitive they were hunting. But I don’t have any record of them coming ashore.”

  “Did they mention a name?” Griffith asks in a serious probing tone. “A fugitive named, Iltar?”

  “I-I don’t remember,” Fidolin stammers. “Maybe? I would have to search through the records… and they were inquiring about a trading vessel as well. We denied their request, of course—I’m sure you’re familiar with the policies. Anyway, one of my aids looked into the vessel and nothing unusual was noted about it. When we wouldn’t cooperate the Sorothians left port.”

  “I see,” Griffith sighs with disappointment; after a moment he asks, “When I arrived I asked the guard who escorted me to gather information about a vessel; he’s yet to return, but do you recall if the White Duchess was among those ships who moored?”

  “White Duchess?” Fidolin gasps with surprise while a puzzled expression forms across his face. “No, that was the ship the Sorothians were inquiring about.”

  Confused by the answer, Griffith’s eyes narrow while shaking his head and mumbles, “That doesn’t make any sense…”

  Both magistrate and mage contemplate the situation for a moment, but a soft knock resonating from the office’s doors draws their attention.

  The guard mentioned by Griffith saunters into the room, carrying a log book and several rolls of parchment.

  While the guard crosses the room, Fidolin points to the desk and commands, “You can set them there.”

  Once the guard reaches the desk he does as ordered and looks to Griffith, saying, “These are copies of the charters for both vessels, from their ports of origin and their departures from Klath.”

  “Thank you, Guardsmen,” Griffith cordially replies while studying the four rolls of parchment; he methodically grabs the nearest and unravels it, revealing the port of origin charter for the Arschicna.

  As Griffith examines the Arschicna’s charter, the guard leaves the office, while Fidolin grabs one of the parchments; after studying the charter, the port magistrate remarks, “The White Duchess left port from Keth and arrived a little over two weeks ago. It’s noted here that they came into port for repairs and no one beside the captain and one of his crewmen disembarked the vessel.”

  Griffith abruptly lowers the charter while worriedly examining Fidolin.

  After a moment, Griffith asks with trepidation, “Is it possible for a non-Kingdom official to get this type of information about any ship? Such as its departing city and arrival in Klath?”

  “No,” Fidolin answers; he furrows his brow while sensing Griffith’s fears and adds, “Any inquiry would be noted… what are you getting at, Agent?”

  Staring past Fidolin, Griffith asks in a distracted tone, “Is there any way someone could sneak into the place where the logbooks and charters are kept?”

  “A record keeper is there at all times,” Fidolin replies then reassures, “No such attempt has been made recently, if at all during my tenure.”

  Griffith sighs, further confused about the situation; he rises from his seat and paces the room while muttering, “Then he must have snuck aboard the Arschicna… so, he’s not the necromancer.”

  Amid Griffith’s quandary Regas and Bredan enter the office; the two agents notice their comrade’s perplexity concerning the situation in Klath.

  While crossing the office Bredan demands, “Well, what did you find?”

  Griffith stops pacing, sighs once then replies, “The ship Iltar stowed away on arrived when he claimed it did. I don’t see how he could have made up nor stole that information–But we have a bigger problem: The Sorothian Navy showed up in Klath nearly a week ago and before that, the White Duchess.”

  “So, Master Mathal was wrong?” Regas quizzically blurts then chuckles, “That’s a first!”

  Bredan agitatedly glances to Regas and boldly says, “This is worse than we thought. We must inform the council at once!”

  “Uh, Agents,” Fidolin interjects while standing, “I fail to understand why this is a threat. There’s nothing sinister about any of this! Besides, no one entered Klath from either the Sorothian Navy nor the White Duchess; in fact, the White Duchess had a skeleton crew with no passengers.”

  Bredan grunts, then retorts, “A clever ruse… the White Duchess probably snuck a conjurer into the docks. A week later, they used that same conjurer to summon their forces past the Frontier Guard.”

  “They’re probably on their way to Alath,” Regas speculates. “We should go back.”

  “This necromancer is devious,” Griffith bemoans. He turns to the port magistrate and urgently asks, “Are there any mage-riders in your service?”

  “No, but the Grand Duke has several,” Fidolin answers. “I’ll send for one at once, excuse me.”

  With that said, Fidolin darts across his office and swiftly exits through the double doors.<
br />
  Once the three Agents of the Order are alone, they continue conversing.

  Bredan folds his arms while sternly suggesting, “We need to speak with the official who inspected the White Duchess. Perhaps there’s something more than what’s in that charter.”

  “What does it matter?” Regas frankly asks, “Whoever snuck into the city was skilled enough to evade the Frontier Guard. Seriously, how are they going to know anything about someone who can easily bypass the dispels at the border? This is someone the caliber of–”

  “Typical,” Bredan interrupts, “I suppose that’s why you’re never sent alone.”

  “What?!” Regas angrily blurts.

  “Calm down, Regas. Bredan has a point, perhaps the official can recall something we can use. We can at least get some more details about the White Duchess.”

  Regas sighs, then walks to the table while saying, “Well, we can count on one thing… They were definitely going to Merda, and they’ve finished with whatever business they had there.”

  “We still need to investigate it,” Griffith says. “Let’s hope nothing happens while we are gone.”

  Bredan grunts while shaking his head and mutters, “Always the optimist, Griffith. But by the time we return Los will be in open war with Soroth.”

  * * * * *

  On a midmorning a little over two and a half weeks after meeting with Fidolin, the vessel Griffith and Regas charted in Klath arrives in the Bay of Keth; both agents stand at the bow, quietly conversing about their mundane affairs prior to being dispatched on this most recent assignment.

  As the city of Keth comes into view, both mages cease their conversation and survey the vast port; to their surprise, many wharfs and piers are severely damaged with debris floating nearby; however, some are undergoing repair and stand on fragile beams reaching to the bay’s floor, while wrecked vessels are gathered near the northern piers.

  While staring at the vast port, Regas mumbles, “What happened here?”

  “A battle,” Griffith observes. “And on a massive scale.”