Regulators Revealed

by Toby Neighbors

  He pulled open the door and slipped inside. He had to lean against the wall for a moment to calm down. Out in the feast hall he could hear the wizards talking and laughing. Dex had half expected to hear them calling for help or rushing after him. Once his heart rate slowed, Dex reached up and wiped away the sweat that had sprung up on his brow. The stairwell was dark, not pitch black, but very gloomy. He kept one hand on the wall as he trudged slowly up the steps. Occasionally Dex passed slots in the wall that were filled with straw to keep the cold out. The slots were for bowmen to fire arrows down on invaders from the safety of the tower, but without a threat the slots were nothing more than drafty holes that made an already chilly fortress even more uncomfortable.

  Eventually Dex came to a landing. The stairs continued upward, but a stout wooden door was surrounded by light from the rooms beyond. It was his father’s personal quarters, and despite the fear of getting caught, Dex wished he could spend an hour alone exploring the rooms where his father had made a life without him. In his mind, Dex reasoned that there must be a clue there as to why his father had left, or what he really felt for his son. But there was no time for exploring, no space to question why things were as they were. Beyond the door was the Elusive Executioner, the man responsible for the deaths of multiple Marshyl Knights, and Dex had one focus — to bring him to the Lord Marshyl, alive.

  Chapter 21

  Dex put his hand on the latch to the door, took a deep breath, and pulled. The door opened without the slightest resistance. The hinges didn’t make a sound as the door swung wide and Dex saw his father slumped in a chair near a small hearth. A lamp on a table filled the room with light, but only embers glowed in the fireplace. A bottle of wine lay on the floor beside the chair, a pewter goblet was still in Maslow’s hand.

  Closing the door as quietly as possible, Dex breathed a sigh of relief. He was in an oval-shaped room. There was a bed against one wall, two chairs near the fireplace, and a shelf half filled with books. Opposite the door was a large window, but the shutters were closed. Dex stepped onto a rug that looked as if it had seen better days and could use a thorough beating. He passed the bed and pulled open the shutter over the window. Cold air came pouring into the room, but one glance showed the cart and Dex’s draft horse waiting below.

  He was just turning back toward his father when he saw a blanket thrown over what looked to be more furniture. Dex hadn’t noticed it at first, but as he turned he recognized a familiar shape. He hurried over and threw back the blanket. A wave of relief washed over him. His dragon armor was intact. He took a moment to check on his father, who was still snoring by the fireplace and then he pulled off the heavy robe he’d taken from Zander. He snatched up the body armor with its wide breast plate and scalloped shoulder guards, slipped it over his head, and secured the straps. Kyp was not only a good forger, but had custom shaped the armor to fit Dex perfectly. A surge of strength filled him as he set the simple helmet on his head, and then carefully pulled the Regulator robes back on.

  The sword belt and sword were with his armor, and he strapped the thick leather belt around his robe. Dex checked the blade. It slid easily from the sheath, the bluish metal glinting in the light from the nearby lamp. The edge was still razor sharp and Dex couldn’t resist swinging the perfectly balanced Marshyl blade. It whistled through the air and brought a smile to Dex’s face. It was the first time since his father waylaid him that Dex felt like himself again. He picked up the dragon shield and turned to his father.

  “I knew you’d come,” the Executioner said.

  Maslow hadn’t moved from where he sat. He was slumped in his chair, his eyes glassy and his shoulders slumped.

  “You left the door open,” Dex said.

  “No sense making it hard for you. The Master knows you’re here. I’m just the bait.”

  “Is that right,” Dex said.

  “It’s a trap, son. You’ll never get out of the fortress. I tried to warn you, but you’re stubborn.”

  “I saw the wizards downstairs. If that’s your army, I’m not worried.”

  “It isn’t the other Regulators you have to fear,” Maslow said. “It’s Master Crane.”

  Dex felt a tremor of fear. Getting into the castle had been almost too easy and he couldn’t help but wonder if what his father was saying was true. Perhaps they had allowed him in, only to trap him. The aspect of a trap that made no sense was the fact that he was nothing, just a Questor, not even a full-fledged Knight. His father had killed so many Marshyls who would have made much better captives than Dex.

  “I guess I should run and hide,” Dex said.

  “It’s too late for that,” Maslow said, leaning forward and trying to stand.

  He lost his balance and collapsed back in the chair. Dex decided in that moment it was no time to take chances. He pointed the sword at his father and froze him with the elvish ending curse. Maslow was caught in the spell, his hands splayed at his sides, his face slack, eyes barely open. Dex turned back to the window. The guards outside were quiet, the castle bailey was empty, and his horse still waited below.

  Sheathing his sword, Dex used the levitating power of the opal spread across the knuckles of his sword hand. His father rose from the chair and floated toward the window, still in a seated position. He was wearing the robes of a Regulator, although Dex saw that they were stained from wine dribbling down his father’s whiskery chin.

  Dex stepped over to the table and blew out the lamp. The room was suddenly filled with gloom, and Dex felt his back tingle. It was as if an enemy were about to rise up behind him and stab him in the back. He had to force himself not to look over his shoulder as he walked back to the blanket that had covered his armor and still covered several boxes that were waiting to be unpacked.

  “Out you go,” Dex said to Maslow, who floated out of the dark window and down the side of the watchtower.

  Dex leaned out the window to watch as his father dropped easily into the cart, as gently as a dried leaf floating to the ground on an autumn breeze. There was no need to levitate the blanket. Dex tossed it down the nearly forty feet to the cart, where it dropped onto his father’s body, still paralyzed by the elvish ending curse.

  The most frightening part of Dex’s plan was following his father down. Dex knew he could levitate himself, he had used the spell several times to save himself from a rough landing, but jumping out of a window that was over thirty feet off the ground was still incredibly frightening. He summoned the power of the opal and then slipped his feet over the edge of the window’s wide sill. He dropped more quickly than he expected as he pushed himself off the edge but the magic slowed him as he neared the ground, and when his feet touched it was as if he had stepped off a single stair, rather than jumping over thirty feet to the ground.

  His nerves were on edge and Dex expected to hear shouting and calls for help at any second, but the fortress was quiet. Dex turned to the cart and neatly arranged the blanket over his father. He also concealed his shield so that it couldn’t be seen, but could easily be reached if they ran into trouble. Leading the horse toward the gatehouse felt like walking barefoot on shards of glass. His heart told him to run, to get as far away from danger as he could possibly get, but he knew any sudden movement would attract attention. He had to force himself to move slowly, to take his time.

  There were plenty of shadows inside the fortress. Dex avoided the light as he made his way to the gatehouse, hoping that the armor underneath his robes wasn’t too obvious. The guards were still looking outward, but Dex knew that the gatehouse was the perfect place for an ambush. He kept his head down as he led the horse through, hoping his armor would deflect any type of magical attack.

  As he stepped out of the gatehouse he felt a sliver of hope. There was no army waiting for him, no ambush at the last second. Just the empty field and snow that was beginning to fall in twirling eddies of wind.

  “So long, Zander,” the guard on the gatehouse called. “Enjoy the weather.”

  Dex didn�
��t look back, he just waved and kept walking, leaning on the draft horse and hoping the guards didn’t notice anything strange about his cargo. It took half an hour of steady travel before Dex let himself believe that he had really succeeded. Once he was sure he was out of sight from the fortress he increased his pace. The snow was falling more heavily, with sleet mixed in that fell in stinging shards. Dex kept the draft horse moving. He knew time was against him. Sooner or later the Regulators would realize that Maslow was missing, then it wouldn’t be difficult to put two and two together and realize that Dex and his cart had been there to secret the Executioner from the fortress. But Dex had a head start and he planned to take full advantage of it. He was determined to get his father back to the Marshyl compound no matter what.

  ***

  From the throne room inside Mygar Keep, Master Crane watched the cart leave the fortress. It was the only stained glass in the entire castle, with a large window depicting a very specific event. One that had been prophesied long ago and nearly forgotten. It showed a young boy helping an older man flee a castle. It was the reason Crane, Master of the Sage Regulators, had taken possession of Mygar Keep, and the purpose behind sending Maslow to attack the Marshyl compound all alone.

  “Is it done?” asked one of the men standing behind the sorcerer.

  “It is,” Crane said, still watching as the cart disappeared from his view. “The prophesy has been fulfilled.”

  “Then our time has come,” said another man.

  “Not yet,” Crane said. “We cannot let our enemies know that we allowed them to take the Hammer. Even he believes that I intended to capture the boy.”

  “So we must continue to wait?” asked a woman.

  “We must continue the deception. The prophesy says that when a boy comes to take his father away the balance of power in the Dragon Isle will shift. Our enemies have held sway over our world too long. Their arrogance and sloppiness has left them weak, but we must allow them to believe we are weaker still.”

  “And how do we do that?” asked yet another man.

  There were twelve people in the darkened throne room with Master Crane. Seven men, five women, all of them trained in the same powerful arts as Maslow, but hidden among the outlaws and desperados who had flocked to the cult believing the story of a world of free magic that Crane had concocted. They were the Regulators with Maslow as their champions, believing that Master Crane would lead them into a life of prosperity and power. It was all a lie, just a clever ruse to recruit the kind of people Crane needed to fulfill his purposes. They were slaves to his manipulation, and evidence of his movement that gave legitimacy to his growing power.

  At first the movement had been little more than a simple spiritual subterfuge. His followers were seekers of the legendary Source, which gave the Marshyl Guild little reason to pay them heed. His wizards had only recently begun to spread from the castle that had been restored to serve as their monastery. And none of them knew of his inner cadre of powerful wizards. They believed that Maslow was nothing more than a gifted wizard. In time, they hoped to master his powers and the ability to stand toe to toe with any Marshyl Knight, wand caster, or ring mage. Yet they knew only the simplest of spells, and when the time came their master would sacrifice them without a moment’s hesitation.

  “Tomorrow we will reveal that the Hammer is missing. By nightfall we will send the Regulators in pursuit of the boy.”

  “What if they catch him?” a woman with white hair asked.

  “He will have to deal with them, but I don’t expect that to be an issue,” Crane said. “The boy stood up to his father, and has Marshyl training. The Regulators are cowards at heart. If one falls, the rest will scatter. What is important is that the boy will believe he has bested us. He will return to his guild and spread the belief that we are weak.”

  “And when we strike they will be broken forever,” the white-haired woman said.

  “We shall rule the entire realm,” Crane said. “No one will stand against us once they see the Marshyls fall. The world will bow at our feet.”

  There were smiles, and nods of affirmation. Crane heard the others murmuring as he turned to stare back out the window. He could see the snow falling softly, shortly turning to sleet which tapped against the glass. The world was changing and he felt himself rising to take control of it all.

  Chapter 22

  Dex was cold, wet, and miserable as he approached the village where Titan was waiting in the livery barn. He had traveled all night and most of the day in order to reach the last stop before fleeing with his father through the pass in Torgyl’s Wall. Dex was determined not to stop until he was safely in the Greeg Lands, if a person was ever truly safe in the wilderness where the savage tribes made their home.

  The draft horse was completely exhausted, its head drooping and its heavy feet dragging through the snow. Nearly a foot of powdery, white snow had fallen, the sleet freezing into a slick layer underneath. The road had been lost under the snowfall, but Dex had always been good with direction. He kept moving southwest, sometimes along the road, and other times through fields. He avoided the settlements and while he could do nothing about this tracks through the snow, he knew that if the snow continued to fall it would cover his trail or at least make it more difficult to read.

  In the village, Dex led the draft horse to the livery barn, and immediately began to unharness the exhausted animal. The owner came hurrying to help.

  “I’ve got your ale,” he announced. “And that big stallion of yours is getting restless.”

  “Good, he’s coming with me,” Dex said. “I’ll get the ale loaded, if you wouldn’t mind fetching me some water and rations. I have to head south immediately.”

  “South?” the man said. “Through the Greeg Lands? Ain’t nothing worth rushing into the wilderness for.”

  “I’m a Marshyl,” Dex said. “I have a prisoner to get back to the Guild.”

  The man looked mystified at Dex’s announcement. “There isn’t much time. I need to trade this horse for another, saddle Titan, and get supplies.”

  “I’ll see to the horses, you go fetch whatever you need.”

  “There’s a man in that cart,” Dex said. “Don’t go near him.”

  The man looked in the cart with big eyes, but didn’t reply other than to nod and lead the tired draft horse away.

  Dex hurried to the cafe and asked about getting supplies. He had to visit three shops to get food, blankets, supplies for their journey, and a new set of gloves. When he got back to the livery barn, a fresh draft horse was hitched to the cart and Dex’s saddle was fitted on Titan’s back. The big stallion neighed at the sight of his master and Dex gave the big horse an apple from his rations.

  “It’s good to see you, too,” Dex said, as Titan gobbled down the apple.

  “It’ll take more than the two of us to get the ale you ordered. It’s a full keg, a big one,” the owner of the livery barn said.

  “I can handle it myself,” Dex said, releasing his father from the elvish ending.

  Maslow groaned in the back of the wagon, moving slowly. He pulled back the blanket and straightened his arms and legs.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” he grumbled.

  “You didn’t have to ambush me in the Greeg Lands,” Dex said. “Get out of the way or I’ll drop a barrel of ale on your head.”

  “I don’t think he’ll be much help,” the owner of the livery said.

  “On that we agree,” Dex replied.

  He stretched out his right hand, commanding the magic of the opal ring bonded to the skin across his knuckles. The barrel of ale was heavy, but Dex managed to levitate it from the floor of the barn up and into the cart without much trouble. He set it all the way forward, then forced his father to sit back against it while he stowed the rest of his rations and blankets in beside him.

  “Get comfortable, I’ll not be taking any chances,” Dex said.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Maslow said. “Crane has lost fa
ith in me. I’ve nowhere to run to. You’ve proven you can find me wherever I go.”

  “Well, as nice as that is, I’d rather not have to find you all over again,” Dex said. “Besides, I don’t believe a word you say.”

  “When have I ever lied to you, son?” Maslow said.

  “You lied in the castle. You said it was a trap.”

  “Levitating me out the window must have thrown Master Crane, but you can be certain he’ll be coming for you.”

  “Let him come,” Dex said. “As long as I don’t have to worry about you stabbing me in the back, I’ll face whatever I must to complete my quest.”

  “Don’t—”

  Dex didn’t have the time or the inclination to hear his father out. He froze him in place again and climbed up onto Titan’s strong back.

  “I’m in your debt,” Dex said, leaning down to pay the owner of the livery barn and trying not to worry about how empty his coin purse was getting.

  “Good luck, young Marshyl,” the man replied.

  Dex nudged Titan forward. He had a rope lead tied to the new draft horse’s bridle. They moved out into the snow, Titan snorting large clouds of hot breath from his wide nostrils. Dex was thankful to be off his feet and while he fantasized about a soft bed near a roaring fire, the sight of Torgyl’s Wall so close spurred him forward.

  The snow fell in spurts, but the storm was waning. Dex felt the fatigue of his flight weighing down on him. It was impossible to recognize where he’d emerged from the wall with everything covered in snow, so he simply made his way toward the towering structure and searched the sky for Bliss. The sun was almost down, and Dex knew he needed to get some sort of fire going if he was ever going to find the passage through the massive wall. The wind was kicking up, and Dex was so cold he couldn’t stop shivering.

  Getting down from Titan’s back and trudging back through the snow to the cart exhausted him. He had purchased two torches in the village, and he took one back to the big stallion. After catching his breath he climbed back up into the saddle, wiggling his frozen toes inside his boots to try and coax some feeling back into his extremities.