Age of Asango - Book II

by Matt Russell

  "Oh?"

  "Yes. The whole town is abuzz about it." There was a shuffling of feet and then a creaking which told Livia that the guest had taken a seat at the family table. "Last night, old Macgovin found an unconscious man behind his inn." At these words, Livia's fear renewed itself.

  "Was he beaten or merely drunk?" Hervin said.

  "Neither, it seems, but let me get to that. Macgovin tried to examine the man to see who he was. It turns out, he was a Nemesai – one of their high inquisitors no less from the markings on his armor."

  "Good gods!" Hervin exclaimed.

  "Indeed. Macgovin and a few of his servants brought the man to the Vestilite temple for healing. The priestesses worked over him for a long time, but they couldn't wake him up. It was very strange—at first, they thought it might have been some kind of poison. Whatever it was, he just lay there twitching. In the end, they suspected some kind of dark magic."

  "Good gods!" Hervin said again.

  "Yes-s-s," Pontis said.

  "Hervin, who are you speaking with?" Lady Sondal's voice bellowed.

  "Pontis is here. He's been telling me about a bit of trouble in the town."

  "Trouble? What trouble?" There was a patting of heavy, naked feet on the floor. The cow was an especially clumsy creature in the morning. She bounded out and exclaimed: "Did something happen in the town?" The woman was always hungry for gossip. She had probably stumbled out in her nightgown.

  "Oh, my lady, good morning," Pontis said.

  "Good morning," she grunted. "What's going on in the town?"

  Pontis retold the brief story nearly word for word as he had to Hervin, pausing at the appropriate places for dramatic effect. He was something of a gossip as well. This grated against Livia's mind. She was desperate to know if the tale went any further. Her very life depended on the fate of the Nemesai.

  "Anyhow, the Vestilites eventually called in Septimius," Pontis finally added, and Livia tensed. Septimius was the city's new resident sorcerer, having assumed the informal position after Dathrose, the former arcane practitioner, had had his difficulties with the Nemesai on a day that had been burned into Livia's memory. She knew little of Septimius, but sorcerers could heal with magic, and that meant the Nemesai might already be back on his feet.

  "Was Septimius able to help the poor man?" said Lady Sondal.

  "Well, he managed to wake him up." Livia's heart thundered in her chest once more. "They got him talking, but...well...he couldn't remember anything—I mean anything. The poor soul didn't know his own name. From what I hear, he seemed more like a child than a man. He didn't understand he was a Nemesai, and barely seems to comprehend the world around him.”

  "What could do such a thing to a man?" Hervin exclaimed.

  "What indeed!” Pontis said, his tone rising. “That's where things get interesting. The Nemesai was a sorcerer. Near as Septimius could tell, his mind had been ripped apart, memories and all. It isn't easy to do that to a sorcerer, let alone an elder one. Septimius thinks it must have been some kind of curse—a curse on a level he couldn't begin to perform."

  Livia blinked. Her mind shifted from fear of punishment to the moment the Nemesai man had begun to burrow into her consciousness. She had felt something within her attack him. She had thought at the time she was doing it herself, but…could it have been dark magic? Livia had never known why she could not speak—why it caused her enormous pain to even try. Could there be a living curse inside of her that was powerful enough to shatter the mind of a trained sorcerer?

  "It must have been one of the followers of that wretched little Cassian Asango," the cow spat. Then she added in a suddenly frightened voice: "Or maybe the young devil himself! Could he be here? In our very city?"

  "Not likely," said Pontis. "I had some sailors in from his port only last week. They told me Asango had been summoned North by General Romulus. He's at the other end of the empire."

  "Well, one of his followers then," the cow said decisively. "Who else would dare to attack a Nemesai?"

  Hervin sighed. "That would mean that the Cassianites have highly adept sorcerers in their ranks. Can you imagine?"

  "That Asango boy is a demon!" the cow said, and Livia heard what sounded like a hand slapping down on the table. "When the Nemesai came for his parents, they should have killed him as well. Think of how dangerous he is now. He has a dragon at his command! Oh! Goodness! I need to calm down. Iona, fetch me a bit of wine."

  "Yes, my lady," Iona said in her usual obedient voice.

  "Anyhow,” Pontis said, clearing his throat, “the reason I came here to tell you all of this is because you need to be ready. The Nemesai are going to want to know what happened to their sorcerer. There will likely be a great many questions asked, and the Nemesai are...the Nemesai."

  "Well, I don't have anything to hide," Hervin said, though Livia heard the nerves in his voice. "I didn't even know the order had men in the city this time of year."

  "Who truly knows how they operate?" Pontis grunted.

  Livia felt a little wave of relief wash over her. If the man had not been found until evening, then it was unlikely that he had been working with partners. This meant she was possibly safe, at least in the short term.

  "The Nemesai will catch whoever did this," the cow said. "All we can do is try to help the poor man." She raised her voice and said: "Iona, you will bake him a pie." There was a pause, and then she added: "And I think we should send Livia to the Vestilite temple. Perhaps the man is in need of stitches."

  "If he were in need, they would have come and woken her," Hervin said. "I prefer to have Livia with me in the shop today, especially if there is a rogue sorcerer or two running around."

  Livia's thoughts began to spin once more. There would be an investigation soon, if one had not already started. The Nemesai would almost certainly look into who was staying at the Rabbit's Foot Inn. Dalvin and Hoss would need to flee before that happened. She had to get word to them. There was also the matter of her having been seen entering the inn, but the innkeeper had not known her by sight, and he had remarked that many people had come and gone that day. For all she knew, a dozen or more people had come to read Asango’s pamphlets after she had left, and the innkeeper had not seemed to see well either. If Dalvin and Hoss made it out of the city, Livia might never be connected to the crime—unless the sorcerer regained his memory... She shook her head, forcing down the fearful notion. Her confession was ready if that happened. For the moment, it was time to move past her fear and take what actions she could.

  "Well, I must be going," Pontis said. Livia heard the sound of a chair being pushed back.

  "I thank you for coming to tell me all of this," Hervin said.

  "Yes, thank you very much," said the cow.

  "I will see you later today, Hervin," Pontis said, and then the door closed.

  "My goodness," the cow said. "To think, something like that happening in our city.” There almost seemed a touch of glee in her dramatically frightened tone.

  Livia breathed slowly, running through her decisions one more time in her mind. She could find Dalvin easily. He slumped around town every day. She could give him some of the money she had stashed away. Convincing him to flee might be difficult, but she could do it, and a significant portion of her problem could be solved by afternoon if all went well.

  Amidst this plan, Livia could not help thinking of the matter of the "curse." Was she really the victim of dark magic? Why would anyone bother with a slave? This led once more to the long unanswered question of who her parents were. Hervin had bought her when she was four from a passing slaver who apparently had not offered any information about her past other than that he had picked her up from a caravan a few days before. Livia had no memory of that time at all or anything before it. For years, she had suspected that her parents were more than slaves. Livia knew she was smarter than any slave she had ever met. She had learned to read at the age of four with scarcely a shred of instr
uction, and by the time she was seven, she could do complex calculations in her head faster than Hervin could write them out. More than any that though, there had been that strange moment years ago when she had seen visions of Cassian Asango...

  None of it had ever made sense. Livia was crippled in a different way than any human she had ever heard or read about. Could it all be the result of dark magic? Had some cruel sorcerer done this to her—stolen her life and her voice? This was a very old wound she had done her best to forget about, but this new evidence was ripping it wide open. Who was she? The most infuriating thought was that she might never know.

  "Livia?" Iona said as she pushed the door open. She had a bowl of broth no doubt from the pheasant bones she had left simmering overnight with savory herbs and vegetables. It smelled wonderful. "Please eat. I'm worried about you."

  Livia blinked at her kind-hearted little sister and then nodded. She walked over and took the warm bowl in her hands and gave a smile of thanks.

  "Did you hear everything Pontis was talking about?" Iona said.

  Livia nodded as she sat down on the bed and sipped a bit of soup from the poorly carved wooden spoon in her hand.

  Iona’s lips curled back, revealing her teeth as she muttered: “It’s really scary.”

  Livia gave a silent laugh through her nostrils. Iona had no idea just how frightening the last few moments had been. The soup settled some of the churning in her stomach. Soon, she would need the strength it would give her.

  "Should I tell Hervin you're too sick to come to work today?"

  Livia shook her head sharply. Things needed to be done. No one would protect her but herself. That was the ultimate truth of her life.

  Chapter 7:

  Trouble at the Tavern

  Kota leaned back against the curve in the thick branch behind him, enjoying the gentle summer breeze on his skin. He was in his favorite tree, relaxing and letting his legs dangle down. Gretis had worked him half to death in the morning, but this was his own time. He had a borrowed book from the Onkai library, an autobiography of the founder of the Onkai order, Dracus Mobius. Kota loved stories of the Starborn. They reminded him of Cassian and his great adventure years ago.

  Distantly, he heard footsteps on the drying grass behind him. They were far too heavy to belong to Gretis. He cocked his head a little, not taking his eyes from the book. The visitor made a soft grunt as he walked, and Kota instantly registered the voice.

  "You're back early," Kota said, finishing the paragraph he was reading.

  "Should'a known you'd be in a damned tree," Glavius said.

  Kota sighed and rested his leather-bound book in a split between branches and then turned and dropped backward out of the tree. He arched his back as he fell, flipping his body so that he landed in a smooth crouch on the grass beneath him. Then he spun around, expecting a quip from his friend, but was surprised to see a dark, troubled look on Glavius's tattooed face.

  "What's wrong?" Kota said.

  Glavius drew in a breath and said in a low voice: "I—I'm going to the tavern. Are you free?" Kota had never seen the cocky young man look so upset.

  "O-of course," Kota said.

  He turned toward Gretis's home. She had been inside all morning, but when he walked up, her voice came through the window before he could even ask: "You may go out for two hours with Glavius."

  "Thank you!" Kota shouted. Gretis often let him break from his training to spend time with Glavius and other young Onkai. She seemed to place a great deal of importance on his friendships. He opened the door and snatched up his white tunic, which he slipped over his chest as he turned back to his comrade.

  "Otho should be back by tonight," Glavius said as they started walking down the familiar path. "I wanted to beat him here so I could see how Darius is running the temple." He still sounded troubled but seemed to want to make small talk for the moment.

  "And how is it?" Kota said.

  Glavius shrugged. "From what I can tell so far, I'd say a bit more organized. Darius might be just a tad cleverer than Otho in certain areas. It’ll be interesting to see what happens when he becomes bishop."

  "It isn't certain that he will," Kota said, thinking back to the conversation he and Darius had had a few months ago.

  "No one turns that job down," Glavius said. "It's an enormous honor. Even Starborn have given decades of their life to it. Besides, Darius is the best man for the job, and he knows it. He'll rise up and do his duty in the end." Glavius seemed to force a grin as he added: "And when he does, he'll promote me to legate, and I'll be put in charge of the southern temple, and you can come use that nose of yours to help me track demons."

  "I think I could go along with that," Kota said. He found the prospect of a partnership with his best friend to be quite exciting.

  They came to the town, which was bustling about as it usually did in the middle of the day. Together, they walked through the crowd and arrived at the Bear's Claw Tavern. "You're damn well going to have a drink with me this time," Glavius grunted as they passed in through the swinging wooden doors.

  "Gretis would knock the hell out of both of us."

  "Yeah, she probably would, which makes it a little more exciting, doesn't it?" He walked up to the edge of the bar between two patrons and said: "Two mugs of the strongest stuff you got."

  "Yes, sir," the tall, thin man behind the counter said.

  "I really can't," Kota said.

  "Eh, if you really can't then I'll just suck them both down, but why don't you just sit down and smell it for a few minutes and see if you're tempted."

  Kota rolled his eyes as they walked over to an empty table near the entryway. He and Glavius took seats across from one another, and his friend leaned back in his chair and glanced around the large room. "Not too many stares in our direction. Down south people gawk at you if you're covered in runes, but up here, there's nothing remarkable about an Onkai and a shamalak having a drink together."

  "I'm not having a drink," Kota reminded him.

  The bartender brought two large, frothy mugs to them, and nearly as soon as Glavius’s touched the table he snatched it up and began to gulp down the foul smelling brew. "Gods but I've missed this ale!" he said after a full swig. He took several more aggressive guzzles, and after a moment or so his body seemed to slacken a bit. When he was near to finishing the first mug, he let out a sigh and muttered: "One of my men lost his sword arm in a battle." Kota looked sharply into his friend's eyes, shocked by the abrupt statement. Glavius started on the second ale and went on, his eyes narrow, "Kobold took it right off in a surprise attack. Poor kid dropped to the ground screaming, blood spurting everywhere. Patroclus was his name. He was only seventeen." Glavius took down several hard gulps, and as he did his eyes glistened and grew a little redder. "Have you ever seen a kobold?"

  "No," Kota said.

  "They aren't servants of Daibok. Just kind of tribal demons I suppose... no wings... but they're fast as all hell. If I'd been any slower, Patroclus's head would have been taken off."

  "But he's alive?" Kota said.

  "Yeah," Glavius murmured, his expression grim and downcast. "The rest of us managed to kill the monster, and we tied off Patroclus's...stump and carried him back to the temple. He's alive, but he's done as an Onkai. I mean... he could have stayed if he wanted to and been assigned to some kind of...administrative work, but he didn't. Young Patroclus retired. It was his first mission!" Glavius blinked at the table. "At least he'll be comfortable. The order gives a healthy stipend to soldiers who get crippled in the field. Maybe he’ll find a nice, pretty girl and..." Glavius wrapped his fingers softly on wood. "I keep asking myself if I should have had the men in a tighter formation. I didn't think there was any danger yet. None of us did. We were three Gods-damned minutes into the patrol. That's a kobold for you though. They're tricky." Glavius took another slow drink from his mug and whispered: "I keep seeing that bloody stump every time I close my eyes."

 
"I'm sorry," Kota whispered, not knowing what else to say.

  "It's alright," Glavius said, sitting up straighter in his chair, a twitching smile playing across his face. "That's the nature of the job. It's the bravest, noblest work in the world! Still," he raised his eyes to Kota's, "we could damn well have used someone with ears like yours, and a nose that could pick up demon stench." He breathed in slowly, then said: "If I’m ever bishop, I'll bring in shamalaks. We need your people. I mean, it's not like we can use dogs most of the time."

  Kota stared at his friend's slightly glazed eyes. Some of the books in the Onkai archives told tales of the early days in the order when it had been commonplace to use trained dogs to track demons. The problem that had been quickly discovered was that many demonic creatures emitted a miasma that would turn most animals vicious in an instant. The order had stopped using hounds when one had unexpectedly turned and attacked a renowned captain in the midst of a fight. He had been entirely unprepared for this, and it had cost him his life and turned the tide of the battle against the soldiers.

  "I am sure many of my people would happily volunteer to help the Onkai."

  Glavius shrugged as he took a long sip, and when the mug came away, he grunted: "The hell with helping. I'd give them tattoos."

  Kota's eyes widened. "That would be sacrilege."

  Glavius rolled his eyes. "Nonsense! We're a military organization. I understand the reasons Bishop Dracus built the order under the church, but all this other foolishness..." His eyes locked on Kota's and he said: "You'd make a better Onkai than almost any soldier in the order," he smirked and said: "not me of course, but just about anyone else. Hell, you ripped a demon’s eyes out when you were eleven. You think that kind of courage is easy to find in the human race?"

  "But we are lower creatures," Kota said, more as a test to see what Glavius would say than anything else. He was incredibly intrigued by what his friend was saying.