Drowning at Dusk Ch. 06

"Then we can bring the full fury of the Lord-Protector down on them. We'll need something in writing, preferably. Plans, maps, documents, even spellbooks or scrolls with some sort of hint as to their plans."

"Are you certain I can't convince you to give me some names of Synrik's comrades?"

"No," she snapped, her voice just as steely and cold as Xelari's could be.

Laughing, I thanked her for the information, then turned and vanished into the shadows.

Despite Rowela's refusal to give me those names, I still decided to try some snooping of my own. I started with the guard barracks where Synrik was based, but found it too crowded and well-guarded to attempt an infiltration. With a shadow-rune and a bit of luck I probably could have managed to get inside, but if anything went wrong, Patrigan would once again be an enemy, and we'd have to contend with himand the necromancers. As I lurked on the rooftop across from the barracks complex, I pondered following a guard home, and either seducing or intimidating them into giving me more information.

But given the number of guards coming in and out of the place, I didn't have any idea of where to start.

After a fruitless hour of skulking in the shadows, I abandoned that particular path and instead prowled some of the taverns frequented by the off-duty watch members. Buying round after round of drinks yielded plenty of rumors and gossip, but little of true value. All of the drunken watch members had learned of Synrik's apparent crime and subsequent flight from the city, but none mentioned the possibility that he'd fled to Amberkeep, and all of them had expressed surprise at his true nature.

One grizzled old woman, her face a mess of scars from a lifetime of patrolling rough streets, had a bit more to say once I bought her and her squad a fourth round. After guzzling down half of a flagon of ale, she wiped the droplets from her lips and leaned in close, speaking in a low and conspiratorial tone.

"You know he's a Falkost, right?"

"What's the significance of that?" I asked, feigning ignorance. Dazyar had already told us that the Falkost family had once served as court mages to the kings of old, and had fallen from great heights once the Commonwealth had replaced the old monarchy.

"They were mates with the old kings. Tighter than kin. Loyal to the end. Bunch of 'em died when the palace fell, bunch more died when they ran up with Kelrin's sons up to Amberwall or Amberkeep or whatever the old castle was called." The grizzled woman snickered. "When Synrik would come out drinking with us, we'd get a bit too drunk and make him a little crown. We'd joke that if he ever got sick of playing watch captain he could be a court mage or even a king if the mood struck him." She shrugged. "Of course, that sort of talk is illegal, but the watch are the ones who enforce the laws, so who's to say if it's really illegal or not, eh?"

"Not me, not me," I said, laughing and tapping my cup against hers.

Curious. Was the necromancy a means for Synrik to restore the old monarchy? Or were the old royal ties simply a means to recruit other allies to his necromantic cause?

One way or another, I'd find out more at Amberkeep.

Hoping to get the guards drunk enough that they'd forget they'd spilled such rumors to me, I bought two more rounds and finally wandered away, returning to the dark streets well after midnight. Exhausted and a bit tipsy myself, I made my way back to Sergayl's Songhouse.

Upon unlocking the door to Xelari's room, I saw that Dazyar had curled up on a cot next to the bed, while the dusk elf herself remained unconscious on the sheets, her chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths.

Wincing at the state of her, I headed down the hall to one of the other rooms we'd rented, and flopped down onto the comfortable bed. Despite my exhaustion, I laid there for an hour, staring up at the ceiling.

With a grunt of frustration, I returned to the other room, padded silently across the floor, and slipped into the bed beside Xelari. I stared at her for several moments, watching her breathe, noting the paleness in her cheeks, the sweat clinging to her brow. My hand settled just for a moment against her elbow.

A heartbeat later, and I was asleep.

I awoke to the sight of Dazyar out on the balcony, pouring two cups of tea. After another check to ensure Xelari was still breathing, I wiped some of the sweat from her brow and joined him.

After a yawn and a cat-like stretch, I sat down beside him and took a sip of the tea.

"Rough night?" he asked.

"Not at all," I said, then proceeded to explain all I'd learned of Synrik, Amberkeep, and the corrupt captain's potential loyalties to the extinct royal dynasty.

"Bloody Voids, what a mess," he murmured. "Did we just stumble across some sort of...necromantic coup attempt?"

"Would certainly explain why they tried to eliminate Xelari. They likely wanted to take out the leader of the local Deathless cell, and minimize the chances that someone could stop them. It was a smart idea; even if the assassination had failed, it still could have turned the Deathless against Patrigan and Heroth, creating a whole new crisis. A war in the shadows between the Deathless against the Lord-Protector would have distracted everyone from the real threat arising at Amberkeep."

"Seems like it's time for us to just step back, then. Let the Lord-Protector's mages and knights handle it."

"They can't just march out an entire army based on the activities of a lone corrupt watchmen and our conjecture. Patrigan needs evidence. I need to get up to Amberkeep, find something definitive. Documents, maps, a prisoner..."

Dazyar glanced over his shoulder at Xelari.

"I dare not leave her. She's improving, but slowly. As more of my magic returns I can pour more energy into the healing spells, but her progress could deteriorate if I leave."

"Why's it taking so long?" I asked, frowning.

"The wound she suffered was deep and since I didn't have enough power at the time to completely heal it immediately, there was a nasty infection. I was able to alleviate the worst of it, but it means the rest of the recovery is going to be slow. Days. Perhaps a week."

"I can't wait that long to go up to Amberkeep. I'll go by myself, if I have to, or spend another fortune on the Tombflayers to accompany me."

Given how ugly things had gone at Pyrewatch, I wasn't sure how many would even accept the contract. Some might sign up just for a chance to avenge their fallen comrades...or they might settle for seeking vengeance against me for dragging them into that bloody contract.

The hair on the back of my neck prickled as I caught the sound of heavy footsteps down the hall. Setting down my tea, I drew my knife, padded over to the door, and took position alongside it.

The footsteps grew closer, and stopped in front of the door.

Three heavy thuds landed against the door. Dazyar joined me, cutlass drawn.

"Xelari? Esharyn?"

The low, gruff voice was a familiar one.

"Terakh?" I asked, throwing the door open.

Mud covered the orc's boots, cloak, and armor, and his cheek bore two new parallel scars. His exhausted crimson eyes darted from Xelari over to me.

"What in the damned Voids happened?"

I dragged him inside, shut the door, and relayed to him all of the carnage and revelations that had unfolded over the past week.

By the time I finished, Terakh bore a scowl fiercer than anything he'd shown before, even when we'd been fighting or fucking.

"How'd you find us?" I asked.

"Foundhim," Terakh said, pointing to Dazyar. "Assumed you'd still be traveling with him, asked around at a few taverns, one place led to another." He rubbed his thick fingers over his new scar. "Gods, what a damned mess."

"Aye. Could have used you. Did you at least find the relic you were after?"

"No," he said, scowling. "The ruin was picked clean. Ran into a particularly big and nasty ghoul, though."

I walked over to Xelari's side, and brushed a finger near her hand, but didn't touch her, almost worried that doing so might disturb her recovery.

"I have a lead," I said, and explained everything I'd learned from Rowela the night before.

"How far is this Amberkeep place?" Terakh asked.

"A week or so on horseback," said Dazyar. "Given that Synrik has a ship and since the fortress isn't far from the coast, a boat would save some time. Only three days by sea, I suspect."

"That settles it." He glanced at me. "You have enough coin to hire a ship? Burned through most of mine paying those mercenaries and appeasing them after we found nothing of worth in that ruin."

"Enough, yes." I glanced down at Xelari. "We can't leave her, though."

"I can stay, watch over her," said Dazyar.

Terakh's eyes narrowed, and he glanced back and forth between the bard and me.

"We can trust him," I said to the orc. "He's a good man."

The bard smiled at that, then sat back down next to Xelari.

"This is a mission of reconnaissance," I said to Terakh. "The two of us alone won't be able to take down an entire fortress filled with necromancers. We get up there, see what they're up to, assess their strength and their numbers, and gather enough evidence to allow Steward Patrigan to bring the forces of the city to bear."

With a roll of his shoulders, Terakh scoffed, stalked over to the open window, and scowled out over the city.

"Waiting on Heroth to act could take weeks. Synrik and his comrades might have moved on by then, or raised another army of undead," Terakh said.

"I know. So if the opportunity arises to kill Synrik while we're there, we'll take it."

I'd infiltrated well-guarded fortresses before, in one case slipping into a castle guarded by more than a hundred men, to slip poison into the food of a murderer who was set to be pardoned by a corrupt magistrate. Amberkeep, however, was likely guarded not just by Synrik and those mercenaries of his, but also by hordes of barrow-walkers, cryptwolves, ghouls, and possibly more of those skeletal constructs.

This would be far from a simple infiltration. One wrong move could doom us all...and could even doom Arkostead.

"Take care, Dazyar," I said with a warm smile at the bard, and gently patted his hand. "If you need help, I think Patrigan's niece Rowela can be trusted. While I'm not sure she would sit vigil here in your stead, she might be able to provide some other sort of assistance."

"I'll manage," Dazyar said with a weary smile. "Sergayl's been helping out, and I've other trusted friends in the city."

"Be mindful," said Terakh. "Synrik might send other killers, or return to finish her off."

"I can handle myself in a fight just fine, as Esharyn here can attest."

"Aye. He's done some damned fine work."

After another faint brush of my fingers against his hand, and a quick, gentle touch to Xelari's cheek, I gathered up my gear and set out alongside Terakh. Exhausted as I was, I'd be able to catch up on sleep once we set sail.

"And after all this, we still haven't pieced together exactly why Synrik wanted Xelari dead specifically," Terakh said, the staircase creaking under his muscular frame.

"No. But I guess that Synrik and his cabal had something big planned for Arkostead, and somehow knew that the Deathless were operating in the region, and wanted to take out their leader. They used Patrigan to set it up, hoping that the Deathless would be distracted with revenge against the steward, losing sight of their real enemy. In the resulting chaos and confusion, they'd be able to put their plan into motion."

"This Amberkeep place...there was a big battle there, right?"

"Aye. One of the last battles of the revolution. The last king's sons and their supporters met a grisly end beneath its walls." I raised an eyebrow. "You think that's what Synrik is after? Raising an undead army?"

"Wouldn't be the first time I've heard of a necromancer using an old battlefield like that." He growled under his breath and shook his head. "And all of this, really, is but a distraction. The true aim of the Deathless isn't just to hunt down death mages. We have far grander goals. And the longer we spend hunting down bastards like this, the less time we spend on our true goal: striking down necromancy itself."

"That could very well be the reason why they tried to use me to kill Xelari. If Synrik and his ilk know of the aims of the Deathless..." I cocked my head. "How could they even know, though?"

"A question with an ugly answer." His scowl deepened. "About ten years ago, one of the Deathless died in an attempt to take down a necromancer. There are necromantic spells to bind spirits, to speak with the souls of the dead. From what we later learned, the surviving death mages bound that man's spirit, learned of the Deathless' aims, and spread word among their kind. Necromancers aren't nearly as organized as the Deathless, but they still managed to alert the others. The word spread like a plague among the death mages, so now most of them know one way or another what we're up to. As a result, they've taken to banding together. Clustering in smaller covens and cabals. Coordinating. Defending the dark weave of sorcery that they all rely on."

Before heading out into the city, we paused at a small tavern across from Sergayl's and ordered breakfast, and devoured the offering of fruit, sweetbread, and sizzling meats.

The door creaked open behind us, and a familiar voice called out.

"You look dressed for a trip," Kivessen said. "Leaving us so soon?"

Flinching, I nearly brought my hand down to my sheathed knife out of fear that the meadow elf had blamed us for Lescorik's death, and had shown up hungering for vengeance.

The soft smile on Kivessen's face fought off my fear, and I relaxed a little, though kept my hand close enough to my blade to unsheathe it in a flash if need be.

"Kivessen," I said with a nod. "This is Terakh. Matter of fact, he just wrapped up a contract alongside a few of your fellow Tombflayers."

"Aye," the orc rumbled. "From the Mrenhold chapter, though. Not sure if you know them. Akorr, Temhult, and Benmaa."

"Temhult, aye," said Kivessen. "Damned good with a spear."

"Indeed; he saved me from getting torn to pieces by a ghoul. Not quickly enough to spare me from this new scar, though," Terakh said, tapping the new wound, before reaching out to shake Kivessen's hand.

The meadow elf grasped Terakh's hand and gave it a firm shake.

"You were with them on Pyrewatch?" Terakh asked.

"I was," said Kivessen. "A nasty fight. One that would have gone down in the histories of our company had we actually killed Synrik. Hundreds of undead destroyed, but in the end, victory escaped us."

"Is that why you sought me out?" I asked, glancing behind him in the hopes that more Tombflayers had come with him to help hunt down Synrik. No such luck; he seemed to be alone.

"Aye."

"I've got the silver to pay for your services. Going to be a few-"

"No," the meadow elf said with a fierce shake of his head. "This isn't a contract for me. I'm not here as a Tombflayer. I'm here as a battle-brother of Lescorik's."

I almost flinched, recalling the warm, brotherly way that Kivessen had placed the fallen mercenary's mace in his grasp.

"A damned good warrior," I said. "And he was lucky, to have a friend like you."

"He'd choose the same vengeful path if I fell."

"And the other Tombflayers?"

"Just me, at least for now."

"You should know that this isn't about vengeance. Not yet. We need information, not blood."

I explained to him what we'd learned about Amberkeep, and the need to reconnoiter the place to gather enough information for Patrigan to justify an official attack.

"Justice delayed is not justice denied," Kivessen said somberly. "I'll gladly join your scouting mission, if you'll have me."

I looked to Terakh.

"If he fought at your side on Pyrewatch and was tough enough to survive that carnage, I'll gladly welcome him," he said with a firm nod at the meadow elf.

"That settles it," I said with a warm smile. "Welcome aboard. All that we need to do is get down to the docks and find a captain willing to take us up the coast. May not even need a private charter, and can just hitch a ride aboard a merchant vessel heading north."

After wrapping up our meal, the three of us headed for the docks.

"How's your friend faring?" Kivessen asked, as we followed Terakh through the crowd, whose bulky frame easily cleared us a path.

"Improving, but only slightly. Hopefully she'll be back in fighting shape by the time we return."

If she awoke before then, I wouldn't be surprised if she insisted on setting out after us to help.

My gaze must have been somber indeed, for Kivessen reached a hand out and rested it on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry. Can't be easy, leaving her like that. If you'd rather that Terakh and I go on ahead to scout while you-"

"No. My talents are far better suited to sneaking through an old ruin than sitting uselessly by her bed. I'm an assassin, not a healer."

And even if I had possessed any skills in the healing arts, I wouldn't have wanted to linger at Xelari's bedside. I craved blood, momentum, andaction. Knowing that Synrik was out there, smirking and breathing and scheming, was too great of a burden to bear.

If the roles had been reversed, I knew Xelari would not have lingered, either. She'd have gone on the hunt without hesitation.

Once down at the docks, we allowed Kivessen to handle the negotiations with prospective captains for our journey north. As a Tombflayer, he'd already undertaken security work for various guilds, giving him an edge when it came to dealing with the captains and merchants.

After a quarter hour of glad-handing and sweet-talking the captains and merchants, Kivessen found us passage aboard theLover's Laugh, a merchant vessel heading north to Mrenhold with a cargo full of wine. All it cost was five silver a piece and a promise to defend the ship in case of an attack by beasts or pirates. For another fifty silver, the captain had promised to delay overnight near Amberkeep, which would give us time to slip ashore, investigate the ruined fortress, and return before dawn. Another seventy silver had bought us a return journey to Arkostead, to make up for the ship's delay in getting to Mrenhold.

If all went well, we could be back in Arkostead and armed with evidence against Synrik within a week.

For the first day at sea, Terakh spent most of it vomiting over the railing, complaining endlessly about the waves, despite the fact that the seas were calm and gentle. I'd planned on dragging the orc into my quarters at some point during the trip, but that seasickness was giving me second thoughts.

Even then, I was just about desperate enough for a distraction that I might have made the attempt anyways.

I leaned against the railing, staring out at the twirling flocks of colorful birds and the jagged, blade-like rock formations that jutted from the shore. Waves crashed against the rocks again and again. As I stared, the churning water seemed to shift to red, as memories of Xelari's bloody wounds drifted into the present.

Blinking, I gritted my teeth and looked to Kivessen, who was chatting with one of the sailors. I watched and waited until he was done, then walked over and leaned my back against the railing, giving the meadow elf an appraising glance.

I'd been interested in the man from our first meeting, and that interest had only swelled after seeing his skill in battle and his willingness to help us investigate Amberkeep. His dark green eyes met mine, and he chuckled, apparently sensing the hunger in my gaze.

"Afraid not," he said with a faint shake of his head.

"Damn."

"You're one of those, are you? Someone for whom grief and pain ignite lust?"