Judgment mtg-3

by Will McDermott

  "No, of course not!" said Treal. "Pianna, Kirtar, and all of the rder forces lost to the barbarism of that mountain man are entombed beneath the rebuilt portions of the Citadel. This sculpture is an exact replica of Pianna after her death, created as a warning to future generations that the price of freedom is eternal vigilance against our enemies."

  "Then I am glad to be counted among the friends of the Order," said Laquatas as they moved on from the eerie statue. A second flash of memory sparked another question from Laquatas. "Didn't Pianna have her sword out that day?"

  "You sound as if you were there, Ambassador."

  "I… remember hearing about a magnificent sword Pianna wielded in battle," stammered Laquatas, momentarily losing control of himself and his mental hold on Treal. "I assumed she had it out to face the barbarian when he unleashed this horrible spell on her and the Citadel. Only there was no sword in the hands of the statue."

  "The Sword of Leadership it is called," explained Treal, firmly under the mer's control again. "It had been handed down from commander to commander since the time of the great war. It is the symbol of power in the Order once wielded by…" Treal faltered. "Blast, I can't remember his name. Great Order hero of the war. Damn. What is that name?"

  "What happened to the sword after Pianna's death?" asked Laquatas to steer Treal away from worries about his increasing memory loss.

  "It was carefully removed from the captain's hands after the massacre and given to Major Teroh as the new leader of the Order. After his death, the sword was brought back to the Citadel, and now Commander Eesha wields it. Funny thing. The sword is now made of glass, right? It's a crystal sword, but they say it is harder and sharper than ever."

  "Interesting," said Laquatas who actually was interested in seeing what the Mirari had done to this sword. Perhaps 1 can get a closer look at it once I get Commander Eesha under my influence, thought the ambassador as he switched off the continuing history lesson he was getting from his guide with a minor mental command.

  Later that day, Laquatas, Burke, and Treal stood in front of Commander Eesha who was flanked by a high-ranking warrior and a priest. Laquatas could see that the aven warrior did indeed have the sword of leadership. He could see the crystal hilt protruding from the large bird's sheath.

  Prying his eyes and mind off of the sword for the moment, Laquatas focused on his mission. "Commander, I bring grave news about your enemies," stated the mer. "News of great urgency and secrecy. May we speak in private?"

  "That is not possible ambassador," replied Eesha. "Even though you are a friend of the Order and a hero in the eyes of many, no Order business with outsiders may be conducted in private. It is a harsh lesson we have learned from experience. Lieutenant Dinell and Brother Themis are my two closest advisors. I trust them both with my life."

  "Of course, Commander," said Laquatas as he pondered his next move. Smart bird, he thought. She's flanked by muscle and a mage.

  "But perhaps the sergeant should leave if this information is as sensitive as you say," continued Eesha. "Sergeant, you are excused."

  Caught in his reverie Laquatas didn't hear the commander's order.

  "Sergeant, leave us this instant!" roared the aven, her wings unfolding, making her look even larger than she was.

  Laquatas provided a mental nudge, and the sergeant said, "Yes, ma'am," turned on his heels, and left the room.

  "Now, what is this grave news, Ambassador?" asked Eesha. "As I am sure you know by now, Commander," began Laquatas, "the Mirari is in the hands of your most-hated enemy, the Citadel butcher, Kamahl."

  "Yes. He stole the accursed orb from my own men, killing several of them in the process. He disappeared shortly afterward, leaving destruction in his wake once again. Our soldiers still have not quelled the rioting that broke out after he destroyed Cabal City."

  "Well, ma'am," continued Laquatas, "what you may not know is that the barbarian has returned to the Pardic Mountains and even now is amassing an army that my sources say he plans to lead into battle against the Order."

  "My scouts have reported the movement of many barbarian warriors in the past week, much more than normal for such a chaotic people."

  "Really?" asked Laquatas, glad to know there was some truth to his lie. It would make the rest of the deception that much more plausible. Noticing the stern gaze the aven commander was now giving him, Laquatas added, "I did not know your scouts traveled so far west."

  "We have been scouting the mountains ever since that butcher left Cabal City," replied Eesha. "Once we find him, he will be brought to the Citadel to pay for what he did to Kirtar and for the rest of the Order forces he's killed. And we will finally destroy that foul artifact."

  "If the Cabal doesn't get to him first, of course," said Laquatas, smiling to himself, feeling he'd finally found a chink in the commander's armor. "I also have news that Cabal forces have been dispatched to deal with the barbarian and bring the Mirari back to Aphetto, where it will once again be offered as a prize in the pits."

  "What?" roared Eesha. "Have they not learned their lesson yet? If those Cabal dogs get their hands on the orb again, there will be a war on Otaria the likes of which hasn't been seen since the end of the last age!"

  "It may not need to come to that, Commander. I can help you capture the butcher and bring the orb back here for its rightful destruction."

  "Why would you do this?" asked Eesha, a note of distrust creeping into her voice. "What do you want from us in return."

  "I am a man of peace, Commander," said Laquatas, bowing low in front of the suspicious aven. "I wish for nothing more than peace between merfolk and Order. Think of the cost of a war against the Cabal-the lives of your men, the damage to the land, the destruction of your beautiful cities. Believe me, I understand the horrible price of war. Llawan was vicious in her slaughter of my people. All I would ask in return is your help against this brutal cephalid that rules beneath the sea."

  "You would have me forsake my war merely to help you in yours?"

  "No, of course not. All I ask is for the Order to back my bid, politically." That and retrieve the Mirari for me, thought the ambassador. "I believe Llawan is courting the Cabal's backing in our conflict-may have even offered the First her aid against you in return," lied Laquatas. "But the First will not provide troops to the empress if he knows I have the backing of the Order. He would be risking the same war that I wish to help you avoid."

  "I'm not sure I follow your logic, Ambassador," said the commander, stretching her wings again and walking to the back of the room. As she did, the priest and the lieutenant turned slightly to watch her. When the commander turned, Laquatas thought he saw an exchange of hand signals between the three.

  Returning to the table, Eesha continued, "But if the Cabal wishes Llawan on the throne, that is reason enough for us to back you. You are after all, the hero of the Order. We owe you no small debt of gratitude for all you did to help save the Citadel on that horrible day when Kamahl the Butcher killed Kirtar and Pianna and tried to destroy us all. We will do what we can to aid you, provided you can help us retrieve the orb and capture that butcher."

  Laquatas accepted the praise graciously, smiling to himself. For only he and Kamahl knew the truth about that day-that it was Kirtar who killed both himself and Pianna… and nearly destroyed the Citadel with the power of the Mirari. Laquatas and Kamahl were there only to claim the Mirari, but through a nasty turn of fate, neither of them walked away with the prize. Laquatas became the hero of the Order just like he did everything else, through his own lies.

  *****

  Braids and her assassins had been on the road for over a week, and the snakes were restless. Braids could tell they longed for action, though they remained silent and focused on the task. Now they were three days' travel outside Cabal City, and while the summoner had enjoyed her return home, the boys had little to do in the dead city. Few people still lived in the city, and those who remained were quickly turning feral.

  The mass exodus of
the city caused by Chainer's torment made it impossible for the snake men to pick up Kamahl's trail inside Cabal City or on any of the roads leading out from the city. However, Braids had other ways to elicit information. The streets of Cabal City were littered with dead bodies, and it was a simple thing for Braids to call those spirits back to reanimate the bodies. They weren't truly alive, but they were no longer dead either. By interrogating these zombies about the final days, she was able to track Kamahl to the northern gate and out into the desolate plains, leaving behind a city that was still dead but now no longer quiet or still.

  Outside the city, Kamahl had joined up with three other barbarians, but the rattlesnake assassins assured Braids that Kamahl left alone two days later. The squad also found a new scent that crossed and intermingled with the barbarian's trail, the scent of an Order patrol that must have spotted Kamahl and given chase. Kamahl had veered from his original northerly course and turned northeast followed by the Order patrol. The other three barbarians had continued north.

  "Follow Kamahl," said Braids to her squad, "and if we find the patrol-or their bodies-we'll question them." Digging her feet into her beastly mount, Braids followed the strong and fast snake men, the wind forcing her braided hair and the dark dementia cloud that always surrounded her head to fly behind her. Exhilarated by the hunt, the dementia summoner began to whistle.

  That night the assassins caught the smell of a campfire in the cool evening breeze. Off in the distance, about a half-day's trip to the north, Braids could just see the wisps of smoke drifting lazily up in the darkening purple twilight.

  "Are you sure it's the same patrol?" she asked the leader of the squad, a snake she called Leer due to the odd slope of his brow that made it look like he was always staring down at her.

  "Yes, mistress," hissed Leer.

  "Wonderful! Let's go pay them a visit, shall we? I'm certain they won't mind answering a few questions about our friend Kamahl."

  As permanent dementia creatures created by Chainer at the height of his Mirari-enhanced power, the snake men never tired and never slept, so they started off for the Order encampment at once, followed by Braids on a newly summoned mount. Her steed looked like a cross between a giant spider and a stallion. It had eight multijointed legs attached to the body of a large black horse with flaming, red eyes.

  Several hours before dawn, the assassins came upon the sleeping camp of the Order patrol. A half-dozen guards were on watch around the camp. The five snake men quietly fanned out and surrounded the camp, leaving Braids to handle the last guard.

  Almost as one, the five assassins leaped from the shadows onto unsuspecting guards, slashing out with wicked claws to rip the larynxes from the necks of their prey before plunging second clawed hands through each guard's rib cage to shred the heart within. Five Order guards dropped into bloody pools with nothing but a gurgle as blood welled up in their punctured throats.

  As she saw her assassins attack, Braids cast a spell at her target from the safety and seclusion of her hiding place. An instant later, the guard stiffened, threw his head back, and opened his mouth. A wispy, white smoke began to stream into the air from the guard's mouth, rising up and hanging above his head like an unbottled djinn. Once the stream ended, the guard fell to the ground dead, his mouth still open, his eyes bleeding from the strain of regurgitating his very essence. Detached from its body, the essence cloud dissipated into the night air.

  By the time Braids got to her victim, her assassin squad had ripped the throats from two dozen sleeping Order guards. The snakes made no sound as they moved from body to body, and with no one left on watch, the entire camp would be dead within moments.

  "Leer," whispered Braids as loudly as she dared. The slope-headed rattlesnake loped soundlessly over to his master. "Leave the throat in at least one guard, preferably the patrol leader. Even zombies can't talk without a larynx, and this one can never return," she said pointing at the guard she had killed.

  *****

  "Well, we've done it, Talbot," said Laquatas into his mirror. "The first two parts of my plan are in motion. The Cabal will flush the barbarian into the lowlands where the Citadel forces will bring the holy might of the Order down upon them and take the Mirari back to the Citadel."

  "But how does that help us, my lord?" asked Talbot.

  "Look at this map, Talbot," said Laquatas as he pointed the mirror down at the map on his table. "The Order forces will follow the same route home that they took when they last had the Mirari. All we need to do is prepare an ambush for them here at the edge of the Krosan forest. We take the orb from the Order, but they get the blame for its loss by the Cabal. Then, when we are done with it, we can use it to buy our way back into the First's good graces."

  "Brilliant, sire," said Talbot. "Shall I return to the trench to marshal our forces?"

  "No. I need you to stay in Aphetto and maintain your watch on the lovely Veza," said Laquatas, looking into the mirror once again. "We can't afford any interference from Llawan. Have you made contact? Does that despicable girl know anything about our machinations?"

  "I have met with Veza several times as you ordered, sire," replied Talbot as he wiped a wet sponge across his brow to moisten his scales. "As you suspected, she has tried to win me over to the empress's side, and I have been able to provide her with much false information. As far as the empress knows, you are bartering for mercenaries for a direct assault on the capital."

  "Be careful what you tell her, Talbot," said Laquatas. "We may do just that once we have the Mirari in our hands and can destroy that interminable portal. But that is as good a lie as any for now. You are sure Veza knows nothing about our plans to retrieve the Mirari?"

  "Absolutely, sire," said Talbot, wiping his brow with the sponge once again.

  "Good. I will leave for the trench in a day or two to muster our forces. I will be in contact again before we leave for the forest's edge. Update me at that time about Llawan's plans. I don't want any surprises."

  CHAPTER 8

  "This is no way to choose a leader!" yelled Jeska. "You cannot unite the tribes by fighting each tribe's champion. All this will do is drive a spike between you and the rest of the warriors."

  Kamahl had been listening to this argument all week and knew that nothing he said would sway his sister's mind, so he merely continued to gnaw on the leg bone in his hand.

  "She's a stubborn one, eh, Kamahl?" asked Balthor, adding more fuel to this ever-burning fire.

  "And you," bellowed Jeska at Balthor. "You condone this competition just to prove that your boy is the strongest of the strong." Jeska threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. "But you can't lose, old man. Every one of those warriors was trained by you or trained by one of your 'boys.' What will this barbaric tournament prove, anyway?"

  Before Balthor could answer and make things even worse, Kamahl stood up, grabbed his sister by the shoulders, and looked deep into her eyes.

  "It is what we are, dear Sister. If this tournament is barbaric, it is because we are barbarians." He sat her down in front of her untouched plate of food and knelt beside her. "You know the only thing barbarians respect is strength in battle. That is why the challenge battles came to be. In the old days, before the great war, entire tribes fought over nothing more than the right to drink from a mountain stream. The challenge battles changed all that. Now, there is honor in battle. Honor and glory. The champion of a tribe is the leader of the tribe. And the more battles a champion wins, the more power and prestige is bestowed upon that tribe."

  "And the Auror tribe has been among the elite for three generations," added Balthor in between bites.

  "Is that what this is all about?" asked Jeska. "You're returning to take your rightful place leading the Elite Eight?"

  "I left because there were no more challenges for me here, no more battles to win," said Kamahl. "But now I see there is one more challenge. The challenge to change the tribes forever. If the tribes cannot come together under a single leader, we will all die,
separate and alone. And, if anyone is to lead our proud people, he must earn every warrior's respect in battle because that is still who we are. That is what this tournament is for-to prove to the champions that I am fit to lead them all in battle."

  "All it will prove is that they fear the power of the Mirari," countered Jeska.

  Kamahl slammed the floor with his fist and stood up again, towering over his sister. "If that is what it takes to band my people together to face the storm that is so surely coming, then so be it!" raged Kamahl, his face purple with anger, his hand raised as if to strike his sister.

  "Look at you," said Jeska calmly in the face of her brother's rage. "Any mention of the Mirari and you lose yourself in anger. With every passing day, these outbursts come more frequently. I fear you will not be able to control its power when pressed in battle."

  She grabbed his hand, which still quivered in the air beside her face. "And if you kill a fellow tribesmen in this tournament, who will respect you then? If you truly wish to win their respect, Brother, then fight without the orb."

  "I cannot risk losing," he mumbled, pushing himself to his feet and dropping back into his chair. "I must wield my sword if I am to win."

  "Then promise me you will rest between battles to regain your strength and control," pleaded Jeska. "I am worried about you Kamahl."

  "Bah, woman!" growled Balthor. "Save your tender mercies for the weak, the women, and the children. A warrior never backs down from a challenge."

  *****

  "Who is my first challenge?" Kamahl asked Balthor as he swung his sword in an arc in front of him, practicing his moves.

  "Some young upstart by the name of Murk," replied Balthor. "He's made a bit of a name for himself in the last few years, while ye were out gallivanting about the continent. He's not that strong yet, but he thinks he's ready to challenge the Elite Eight."

  Kamahl stopped his sword practice and looked at Balthor. "So, the Eight convinced him to test his mettle against me to see if he was ready and to see just how powerful I have become, eh?"