Chapter XIV – Guests of the Knights

“I knew we should’ve waited for the others before we went back to the house,” said Melina. Dealyon grimaced at her words. Her self-defeating attitude had been slowly wearing on Dealyon’s nerves as the day wore on. “We should have just found a spot outside of the neighborhood and waited for them to come back. It’s just that we weren’t doing a bit of good searching for Oheniies, and there we were just wasting our time.”

Dealyon did not miss Melina’s omission. The reason they were not having any success finding the sage was the fact that Dealyon refused to wear a disguise. Surrounding himself with a throng of sweaty, smelly people had never been the druid’s notion of enjoyment, and he would banish himself to Tartarus before he would cover himself with more man-made substances and then try it. His refusal to disguise himself had forced him to stay at the back of the taverns they went into, sitting in the shadows and keeping an eye on Melina’s actions. The Accabashi woman had very little knowledge of how to handle tavern men herself and consequently had little to no luck in finding any information. Between the two of them, they had been the least successful of the companions, he was certain.

“How was I to know that the Knights were watching the Rentre’s house in hopes that we would return? If they knew we were there, why hadn’t they come after us sooner?” Melina’s voice was raising in pitch the more agitated she became and even the stoic Dealyon was reaching his breaking point for tolerance because of it. He was doubly irritated by the fact that, normally, Melina never talked without having something valuable to say and it was one of her best traits. He assumed that the barbarian woman was attempting to convince herself that she was not to blame. If that was the case, she was fighting an uphill battle, much like himself. Melina was fairly practical when it came to blame of others, but she always took too much on herself when things went wrong. She and Quillion were very alike in that respect.

“As you say, Melina, there was no possible way you could have known the Knights had discovered where we were staying in Haven. Therefore, there is no need for the self-recrimination you seem to have adopted in our stay here.” As he spoke, the druid indicated the unyielding gray stone walls and iron bars of the jail cell the two of them waited in. Melina followed his gaze around the cell, the only door to it was locked with three locks and magically sealed. The druid knew that such measures would never stop him, or most of the other companions, but the four mages that stood vigil outside the door would. The magic users guarding the cell could easily detect any attempt at a spell by Dealyon within forty hands.

Luckily, Dealyon was, by nature, a patient man and he was content to wait until an opportunity arose that would give him and Melina a chance at escape. If the God of the World smiled upon him, one of the companions would discover that he and Melina were prisoners and would attempt a jailbreak. The odds were stacked against them, even with the companions’ considerable power, but all they needed to do was distract the magic users watching the cell for a moment and Dealyon would make good their chance to escape.

“I know that there’s no need, Dealyon, but I can’t help it. I can’t get the horrible image of the poor Rentre’s out of my mind. We’re the ones that brought that on them. We are!” Melina was becoming increasingly vehement as she spoke.

Dealyon remembered the scene as well, a vivid image that would burn in his mind forever. He and Melina had approached the Rentre household with a depressed, defeated air about them. They were seeking only a bit of time to relax and discuss what their next step would be in their futile search. However, like so many other times when the companions were together, things did not occur as expected.

From the moment Dealyon entered the house, he had known something was extremely wrong. The air of the house was dead, very unlike the air that living beings walked among. Melina had felt something wrong as well. Dealyon had seen many instances in the past when the barbarian woman’s acute senses would detect subtle differences in her environment that many, less sensitive humans would not.

The druid had walked towards the bedroom, where the feel of death and violence was at its strongest. He pushed the door open carefully with his twisted vine staff, the hinges of the door giving way with a soft squeal. Inside was a vision of carnage that very nearly sent waves of revulsion through Dealyon, who had seen gory remains of animal attacks that would send many city dwellers into fits of retching. Geryld and Morena Rentre had been eviscerated; there was no other way to describe it. They had been dissected with near pinpoint precision, their bodies taken apart with meticulous care and the pieces spread to all portions of the room. No animal had performed a slaughter such as this, even though the wounds indicated so. The details of the carnage pointed to a malevolent intelligence reveling in the joy of the kill.

Before the Druid had a moment to read the signs and determine the killer, the front door to the house had burst in. A detachment of Knights had surrounded the Rentre house, leaving him and Melina trapped therein. The Accabashi woman had immediately unlimbered her morning star, swinging it around with a menacing whirl that kept even the fully armored Knights at bay. She had been preparing to leap upon the Knights when Dealyon put a restraining hand on her shoulder, causing her to regard him with astonishment. The Druid knew that an attempt at escape would only meet with failure, possibly even causing them to get killed or maimed in the process. Melina’s shoulder had slumped as she came to the same realization, and the two of them promptly surrendered to the Knights of the First Order.

Dealyon’s thoughts came back to the present and he looked at Melina in surprise, the Accabashi woman had silenced her unusual talking spell and was regarding the cell doors with an intense expression. Her face was screwed up in concentration as she thrust her head forward smelling the air. The Druid quickly reacted to her signals and marshaled his will, focusing his mind on the animals of the jailhouse. He could feel the rats and insects of the building react to his mental presence. He intensified his control over their collective will and commanded them to keep watch along the corridors.

The sensations Dealyon received were puzzling, as much to him as they were to the limited mental powers of the creatures he was in contact with. They could feel a presence in the corridor, in fact they could smell it, but they could neither see nor hear it. Their natural instincts for self-preservation caused them to shy away from the stalker in the corridor, which made an accurate assessment even more difficult. Dealyon, his eyes still glazed over in concentration, moved closer to Melina and bent low to whisper in her ear.

“What is it you sense?” he asked in a barely audible voice.

The Accabashi woman’s brow furrowed up in frustration as she answered in the same low-pitched whisper. “I’m not sure. I smelled something that didn’t belong. I don’t smell it any longer, though.”

“Your senses do not fail you. There is something out there, and it is approaching the mages that hold our cells inescapable,” replied the Druid. “I believe we need only to wait for our opportunity, which should approach soon.”

Grabbing Melina’s arm and pulling her beside him, Dealyon moved to the edge of the cell where both of them would have a clear view of the mages that watched their cell. The Druid pulled his hood lower, so that the magic-users would not be able to see him chanting a spell, should the need arise. He glanced briefly at Melina, seeing her stony face. He knew that she would never give anything away from her expression, so he focused his attention back on the mages.

The mage farthest to the right, a wizened, white-haired old woman with a permanent sneer on her face watched Dealyon and Melina like a hungry tiger. She had been the most vocal in her arguments to kill the two of them and therefore eliminate the possibility of their escape from “justice”. The Knights that had captured them had adamantly refused, of course, stating that everyone deserved a trial in the Court of Stars and Storms before a sentence of death could be handed down.

If things were about to happen, as Dealyon believed they were going to, the Druid hoped that the old woman mage would be the first to go down. The Druid quickly sent forth his consciousness again to the creatures dwelling in the corridors. The foreign presence was now very close to the mages, based upon the animals’ sense of smell. Whatever was about to happen would occur within the next few seconds. Dealyon prepared himself with the most debilitating spell he possessed to aid his helper. He only hoped his hypothesis was correct.

The mental preparations Dealyon was focusing on were interrupted, however, by a loud banging on the door at the far end of the corridor. One of the mages, a large bearded young man, stood and walked down the hallway to answer the summons. Dealyon cursed silently at the untimely interruption. Only a few seconds more were needed if the unseen presence in the corridor was truly going to attack the mages as Dealyon suspected. That was not going to happen now as he sensed the unseen presence back away from the scene. More than likely it was assessing the change in the situation and would wait for its best opportunity to strike.

Dealyon’s musings were quickly forestalled by the sound of armor clinking in the hallway. A large, very powerful-looking man was walking down the corridor, his cape billowing out behind him, the star and lightning bolt hammered into his breastplate indicating his rank. The Druid was quite surprised to see Lord General Rendron Alshien stride up and place himself directly in front of the cell, his hands on his hips and feet set wide apart. With the aura of power and command that surrounded him, the man looked every bit the leader of men that he was.

From the folds of his hood, Dealyon watched the Lord General of the Knights of the First Order’s eyes size up the two companions. What he was looking for was unknown to Dealyon, but the man did not seem to find it. His voice was resonant, if a bit wind-worn, as he addressed them.

“So, you two are the murderers that butchered a helpless family in the middle of the night? You look a bit undernourished to have ripped two adults limb from limb. Maybe you used a bit of magic, no? It might just be that you are really land-locked ogres ready to shed your human trappings and pull the building down around us.”

The man’s habit of asking questions without waiting for an answer irritated Dealyon. However, the slight crinkling around the Knight’s eyes swallowed any retort Dealyon might have responded with. It was almost as if Rendron Alshien did not believe what he was uttering. This man would definitely have to take a good deal of watching before Dealyon would classify him as friend or foe.

It was Melina who answered when the Knight paused to take a breath. “We did not know that they had been killed. The Rentres were kind enough to allow us to stay in their home while we were in Haven.”

“Balderdash!” replied the General. “If that’s the truth then how did this tatter of this man’s cloak become entangled on the door frame before you arrived?” He reached out his gauntleted hand towards Dealyon. In it was a section of cloak that Dealyon knew was his own.

Melina’s eyes grew wide as she viewed the section of cloak in the man’s hand. Dealyon watched her eyes rove from the cloth to the portion of his own cloak where the section had been torn away. Dealyon almost smiled when she shook her head, apparently to an internal argument, and spoke again with utter conviction.

“I don’t believe that Dealyon had anything to do with their deaths, for I was with him all night,” she said with a clear, singing voice.

“Then that would make you quite suspect as well. Would it not?” replied Rendron Alshien. His eyes moved back to Dealyon as he continued. “So you are Dealyon? It’s always nice to put a name to a face, even if the face is only on a wanted poster.” His voice rose back to its loud volume as he addressed the two of them again. “How long have you two been associated with the Half-elf’s band of murdering thieves?”

Melina’s face grew stony calm, but Dealyon could hear the anger in her voice as she responded. “We are not thieves or murderers. You would do well to refrain from such accusations without proof.”

“But I have proof, my good lady, right here in my hand. This, coupled with the fact that you were found standing over the lifeless bodies is proof enough in any court.”

In response, Melina simply turned her back and refused to acknowledge Alshien’s existence. The Knight was not put off by her rebuff, however. In fact, he leaned in closer to the cell bars and, to Dealyon’s surprise shot a discreet look back at the guarding mages, spoke in a low voice that carried no further than their ears alone.

“Now, you two, I have known Quillion A’Sirendon for a long time and I do not believe for a second that he is either a thief or a murderer. If you do, in fact, travel with him then I must think the same of you.”

Melina half turned in shock, surprise painting her face.

“Now turn back around, young lady. If these wand wavers believe I am having a congenial conversation with you, they are just as liable to turn me into an orc child as they are you.” He waited for Melina to resume her former stance before continuing. “I will, however, require your word that you had nothing to do with these killings.”

“You have it,” whispered Melina.

“What about you?” asked the Knight, looking into the darkness of Dealyon’s hood. “I know you Druid types are loath to tell lies in general, so I would seem quite the fool not to believe you.”

“You have my word that we did not kill the Rentre family. I cannot, however, say that we are not, in some way, to blame for their deaths. I find it unlikely that they would have been slaughtered had we not been residing there these past few days.” Dealyon, like Melina, could not shed himself of the blame he felt the companions had in the death of the too-generous family.

“Your word is well enough for me” grunted Alshien. “There. Now that I know you are not responsible, we need to find a way out of this cell for you two.”

Dealyon could almost feel the tension that had built up in Melina melt away. Her next words were so full of hope that Dealyon felt instinctively protective of her optimism. He did not want to see her deceived by this Knight and Dealyon’s natural mistrust of people prevented the same optimism in him.

“Can you not do it yourself?” asked Melina, without ever turning around. Dealyon approved of her self-discipline despite her excitement at the prospect of freedom.

“It’s more complicated than just issuing an order to have you released. The entire city of Haven believes you to be criminals of the worst kind. If I were to order your release in the face of the evidence against you, I would have a revolt both within and without the Knights of the First Order. I cannot allow that. That idiot Barterrin has poked a stick in a badger den with his pursuit of your little group. With the rumors of Mirdas Morgal armies massing in the North, I must keep the Knights together more than ever.”

“What can we possibly do then, if you can’t release us.”

“I believe I can assist in that respect.” A soft, purring voice came from just beside Lord Alshien, causing the Knight to give a start. The General’s eyes darted around in alarm, but, to Dealyon’s grudging respect, he did not react more than that.

“I was wondering when you would make your appearance known, Ell,” whispered Dealyon.

“How did you know it was me?” asked the disembodied voice. General Alshien was beginning to recover from his initial alarm and was now peering carefully through squinted eyes in the direction of Ell’s voice.

“You may be silent as the wind, Yerracht, but even you cannot disguise your scent from the creatures of nature. I assume that your appearance, or lack thereof, is a result of Tersiano’s skills?” the Druid added.

“Of course,” the Yerracht replied. “General?” Alshien gave another little jump as Ell’s voice addressed him. “General, if you are serious in helping my friends then this would be the perfect time to prove your mettle.”

Giving his head a little shake Alshien responded with a firm voice, his eyes still roving for some sign of Ell’s existence other than her voice. “My Lady, all I need is but an opportunity.”

“I’m happy to hear you say that General, for now is your chance.”

“What do you require of me?”

“I assume you have some type of cell keys on your person?”

“Aye, that I do.”

“Then when I begin my assault on the mages, you must unlock the cell so my friends can get out. After that, feel free to put up a struggle, if you feel it will assist in salvaging your honor. You can always tell everyone that the Druid cast a spell that stopped you.”

“I will do my part without having to utter falsehoods to my men, woman!” Alshien responded in a tight voice.

Dealyon gave a mental sigh at the turn of events. The companions always call him the undiplomatic one, but Ell was besting even his legendary lack of tact. “How are we going to get past the outer guards once the mages are defeated?” he asked, in order to change the subject. “We cannot all turn invisible.”

Ell’s soft, purring chuckle issued from the open air. “Don’t worry about that, we have help. Now keep watch for my signal.”

Dealyon could not hear the tiger woman leave, but he knew she was no longer there. He watched as Rendron Alshien removed his gauntlets and carefully, lest their jingling give him away, removed the jail keys from his belt pouch. He quickly sorted through the tangle of large iron keys until he found the one he wanted. It was a large silver-plated key which had an ivory skull with a manacle around its neck carved on the head. Dealyon saw the Knight’s self-conscious look upon noticing the Druid’s scrutiny of the key’s artistry.

Holding the key poised in front of the lock, The Lord General of the Knights of the First Order shielded the action with his own body. Melina had turned and was now watching the mages with the same stony expression she had been watching them with since their incarceration. Dealyon turned to face her, watching her face closely for the first signs of the signal from Ell.

He heard a sudden oath coming from the direction of the mages and Melina’s eyes widened slightly. The Druid stood to full height and began to whisper the keys of power to a Domination spell. It was one of the most powerful spells in the Druid’s arsenal and it would take total focus to cast. The mage he targeted, the young, bearded man, was the only one still focused on the group within the cell. All the others had turned to focus on the old woman, who had suddenly and violently lurched forward, upsetting the table they all sat behind.

The young mage sensed that Dealyon was casting a spell and he stood up to his full height, intent on casting a counter-spell to stop him. The brown-robed Druid’s early preparations were the deciding factor, however, as he uttered the final words to the casting. He reached out his hand as if grasping a pear from a vine and fashioned his hand in the shape of a claw, as if he was piercing his fingers into the soft skin of the very same pear.

His powerful consciousness flowed from his body, tearing through the mage’s psychic defenses like a wolf savaging a young doe. He could feel the young man’s mind recoil in terror just as he could see the man’s body instinctively cover his head with his arms, vainly trying to ward off an attacker that was not physically there. Once his grasp of the mage’s mind had been established, Dealyon forced the remnants of the man’s consciousness into a dark recess of his brain, much like wadding up a parchment and stuffing it in a locked strongbox.

The Druid’s consciousness split as he asserted his Domination over the mage body and retained a limited awareness of his own. A drifting awareness of the mage’s talent and knowledge flickered through Dealyon’s mind, and before he could stop himself, he implemented one of the mage’s spells. He whispered words he had never before spoken through lips that were not his own. He suddenly felt a tingling surge through his possessed extremities and before he could react to them in a controlled fashion, he felt a light tap on his shoulder.

His unfamiliarity with the sense of balance in the foreign body caused him to pitch forward when he turned to see who had touched him. As he fell, he felt the surging release of the energy pent up in the body not his own, sending a sparkling beam of light issuing forth from his outstretched hand. The surge of light blinded the eyes he looked through, and he shifted more awareness back to the vision of his true body.

He saw the possessed body under his command utterly destroy the blond mage who stood behind it. The blond mage died with the look of surprise etched in his face, a victim to a spell over which Dealyon had no control. The Druid quickly assumed a more robotic control over the mage’s actions and mentally forced the mage to slide into the warmth of sleep.

His awareness withdrawn from the mage’s unresponsive mind, Dealyon looked fully through his own eyes at the tableau in front of him. The blast he had unwittingly loosed while Dominating the mage’s faculties had left a hole in the reinforced brick and mortar wall along the corridor. His eyes quickly scanned to the left and he gave a tight-lipped smile of relief upon seeing Ell standing over the unconscious form of a mage she had just dispatched. The Yerracht’s wide eyes flitted between the hole in the wall and the sleeping mage.

The Druid gave a slight whistle to draw her attention and indicated for her to keep a close watch on the mages piled haphazardly on the floor. Melina stood outside the cell with Alshien, having already made good use of the first opportunity to escape. Dealyon saw the Lord General of the Knights watching him from the corner of his eye and occasionally glance in the direction of the mages. The man had a quick mind, Dealyon realized, to have connected the mage’s accident with Dealyon. Dealyon made a mental note that Rendron Alshien was not a man to trifle with if it could be avoided.

Rendron Alshien handed over the cell keys to Melina, ensuring he would not be in possession of them when he sounded the alarm. People would ask questions if they knew he had retained possession of the keys when the companions had escaped. Dealyon and Melina moved towards the doorway at the end of the hall leading to the guards’ room. It was the only way out of the jail, and very dangerous as well. Melina motioned for Ell to follow them, and the Yerracht appeared hesitant for a moment, but then shrugged her shoulders and moved to stand beside the Accabashi woman.

“You know, we don’t really need to…” she began, but was promptly interrupted by Melina.

“Shhh,” whispered the barbarian. “If you keep talking so loud, the guards will hear us and we’ll never get the element of surprise we need to get past them.”

“That’s what I’m saying, they’ve been…”

“Shhh.”

Unaware she was being observed by Dealyon, Ell screwed up her face in vexation before a slow, amused smile came to her lips. She took a couple of steps back and leaned against the wall, intently watching the scene unfolding in the corridor. The Druid’s mind raced as he pondered Ell’s actions and he checked an urge to question her as to her knowledge of what lay behind the door. He was certain that Ell would give warning if what she knew was dangerous to them all.

Melina looked back at General Alshien and pumped her fist up and down, indicating that they were ready to spring into the guards’ room. Although still perplexed over Ell’s curious actions, Dealyon prepared himself for action, whispering the keys of power to a spell that would render the majority of the guards blind and dazzled. He delayed finishing the sequence of keys until he had actual targets to attack, otherwise the spell would drain his strength twice over what it would if the spell was released.

He nodded his head to Melina in answer to her inquiring look, and the Accabashi woman threw open the door, leaping into the room far enough to surprise any occupants, but not far enough as to charge into a possible trap unawares. Dealyon followed stately behind her into the brightly-lit room, stopping just behind her crouched form, and quickly surveyed the room for targets for his spell. He found none.

Instead, he saw over a dozen Knights of the First Order kneeling in their smallclothes amid piles of their own armor. That, however, was not the most startling point of the situation. That title had to be reserved for the twenty or so men dressed in black leather vests, wearing clothes in various forms of disarray, and each holding a short sword or dagger to the throats of each of the Knights. The men alternated their bored looks between Dealyon and Melina and the Knights that each of them held in check. The captive Knights did not even acknowledge the companions’ presence, as each one reserved his hateful enmity for the man standing in front of him.

Dealyon kept the final keys to release the spell on his lips, despite the surprise. He had arrived at entirely too many surprising situations to be taken far aback by this development. He did not attack, however, as the men showed no signs of hostility towards either him or Melina. One of the men nearest him, a startlingly handsome man compared to the plain-faced or scarred men he usually associated with, spoke with an almost amused voice to the two companions.

“You must be the friends, eh?” he declared, in a projecting voice that rivaled an actor on a stage. “Neither one of you look to be even worthy of ‘Tara’s time, much less travel with her.”

Dealyon assumed the person the man referred to was Scintara, as he recalled hearing her called by that particular nickname before, but he remained curious as to the man’s association with the curly haired companion.

“Who might you be, sir, and how are you acquainted with Scintara?” he asked in a low voice, aware that his speaking removed the release of the Blindness spell and he would soon feel the effect of the energy drain caused by its on-release. Dealyon ignored the effects, as he knew the answer to his question was more important than a bit of lethargy.

“I am Ilithiron, head of the Guild of Assassin’s in Haven, and ‘Tara came to my guild house a few nights back asking for my help.”

“Where is she now?”

“She’s nearby, Druid. Be content that I have offered my assistance and am curbing my desire to…”

The assassin was interrupted by the cries of alarm from Rendron Alshien who still stood far back in the corridor, unaware of what was occurring outside the door. Dealyon turned to warn Alshien about the change of plan, when he spied Ell in the doorway, doubled over in laughter. Irritated, he asked Melina to go back and inform General Alshien about the assassins’ capture of the General’s Knights. He glared at Ell uselessly, since she could not see his face within the shadow of his hood.

The tiger woman walked up to where Dealyon stood and smiled at Ilithiron, receiving a dashing smile and a quick bow in return. The brown-cloaked Druid smiled, knowing full well that Ell had already worked her unconscious charms on the assassin. This knowledge in his mind, he leaned over to the Yerracht and whispered in her ear, carefully muffling the sound of his voice so the assassins, who traditionally had sharp hearing, would not overhear.

“Where are the others, since you appear to know a great deal of the goings-on here?” he almost silently intoned. He knew Ell’s acute sense of hearing would easily detect his words.

“Why Dealyon, don’t you trust me?” she asked in a loud voice, smiling at the Guildhead. The Druid was taken aback by the casual way she dismissed the secrecy he felt was vital in this situation. He was about to make a sharp rejoinder when a clamor near the doorway leading outside drew everyone's attention.

“I say, I really don’t feel that I’m quite the best choice to be shepherding a troop of Knights to…” Tersiano’s voice broke off as he walked through the door, followed by Scintara, who was eyeing one of the wild mage’s pouches. The wild mage’s eyes scanned the room briefly, dismissing the assassins and the Knights they guarded, and came to rest on Dealyon and Ell. A smile crossed his face as he beamed at the two of them and he grabbed Scintara’s wrist just as she was preparing to filch from his pouch and pulled her to where Dealyon stood.

The curly-haired thief trailed along behind petulantly until her eyes alighted on Dealyon and Ell. She pulled her wrist from Tersiano’s grasp, deftly twisting against the mage’s thumb, and dashed the rest of the way to where Dealyon stood. She smiled briefly at the Druid and then quickly turned to address Ell, speaking in excited tones.

“I see you found them all right. Any problems with the mage guards?”

The Yerracht responded with an air of calm indifference that Dealyon now knew was all an act designed to irritate the thief. “No, none at all. In fact, it was quite boring.”

The Druid had no desire to stand in the guards’ room all day and posture about how easy it was to disable four unprepared mages. These two women rivaled a pair of drunken bar dwellers attempting to outdo each other’s stories. He spoke quickly, to forestall any response in kind from Scintara.

“We do not have the time to discuss minor details. Melina is in the cell area with” the Druid spared a glance at the nearest captive Knight and lowered his voice, “Rendron Alshien even as we speak. It is imperative that we leave this building as soon as possible. Where are all the others?”

Scintara answered the Druid, raising a hand to stop Tersiano from doing the same. Her face lost some of its gaiety as she as she spoke in a solemn voice. “Quillion, Lysinthia, and Malaryn have gone to rescue Aramari. Ephirea and Preosha are outside overseeing the disarming of the Knight guards and attempting to keep Thimellan out of trouble.”

The Druid’s eyes narrowed as he heard the last name. “Thimellan? Why is he here?” he asked.

“It’s a long story, Druid, and as you said yourself, we don’t have time to get into details.” She reached out and grabbed Ell by the hand and began leading her out as she continued, “Go and get Melina, Dealyon. I’ll explain on the way.”

As Dealyon moved in the direction of the cells, a point suddenly occurred to him. He turned and shouted out a question to Scintara just as the thief neared the door. “Wait a moment. You will explain on the way where?”

The thief stopped next to the door, sharing an exasperated glance with Ell, before she turned and answered with an enormous smile on her face. “What, my dear Druid, did you think I was doing nothing during my whole time here?” She gestured towards the assassins scattered about the room, who watched the goings-on with undisguised amusement. “We’ve found it, Dealyon. We’ve found Oheniies’ home!”

There existed few things in life that really gave Emiriak a sense of pleasure any more. Seeing a group of Quillion’s companions behind solid steel bars would definitely top his list, however. These thoughts flickered through Emiriak’s mind as he strode down the city streets of Haven. He allowed no trace of his good mood to show on his carefully schooled features, for he enjoyed the flinching reactions from the contingent of Knights accompanying him, on the rare occasions when they dared look at his face. The scowl he kept fixed on his face was more than grim enough to send even some of the strongest Knights scurrying. The slight, yellowish tinge that had begun to color the whites of his eyes aided in the effect as well. That coloring was a recent phenomenon that was rapidly growing worse. He had his suspicions as to its origin, but he did not care, for there would always be time to deal with that change later.

The scowl grew easier to maintain as he caught the occasional glimpse of General Barterrin from the corner of his eye. The fool had been insistent about accompanying Emiriak to the jail, and the Czak Myar could not very well refuse, as the jail was under the Knight’s command. The last thing Emiriak needed was an idiot with power tailing his every move, especially since Emiriak’s intention was to utterly destroy any companion he found in the jail. There would be no Knightly trial, no court, only death.

“Slow down a bit, Emiriak. All of us do not have long legs like yourself and cannot stride so,” complained the General. Emiriak only then realized he had lengthened his stride in an unconscious attempt to rid himself of the sniveling Lord. Either that or he intended on reaching the jail as soon as possible to wreak his vengeance on the people who dared evade him in Ravenwood. His self-control against smiling almost broke, however, as he realized his cape was billowing out behind him, effectively flapping in the General’s face.

“You’ll just have to move faster if you want to come with me, General. I don’t have the time to wait so you can walk comfortably,” he snarled at the Knight. Emiriak could hear both snickers and sounds of indignant shock come from the Knights around him at his surly words. The Czak Myar did not care, though the Knights were still foolishly loyal to the idiot General and, snickers or not, they would fight for him to the death. He heard nothing but a stony silence from Barterrin in response to his words, which suited Emiriak just fine.

“The jail is just around the corner, my Lord,” reported the Knight walking easily next to Emiriak. “There are over twenty Knights and at least four mages guarding the cell. I can assure you the prisoners will not have escaped.”

Emiriak spared the Knight a scathing glance, which the man ignored anyway. As they rounded the corner in view of the jail, however, all trivial issues such as irritating Generals and obstinate Knights became irrelevant. The contingent of Knights Emiriak assumed were the guards to the jail wandered around, collecting pieces of their armor and assisting each other back into their steel shells. A large hole appeared to have been recently blown in the side of the building, its debris intermingled with the strewn-about pieces of the Knights’ armor.

One Knight stood in the middle of the rabble, attempting to impose some sort of order on the laughable scene. He was an impressive figure, even to Emiriak’s jaded senses, standing tall in his shining plate armor and shouting out commands to the band of defeated Knights. It was the man Emiriak had managed, by necessity, to avoid during his brief stay in Haven, Lord General Rendron Alshien. Emiriak looked over his shoulder and pulled General Barterrin next to him.

“I need to know if the companions escaped. Go talk with your commander and find out if they are still here,” he intoned in a low voice. “Remember, Barterrin, I am not supposed to even exist in Alshien’s mind, so do not mention me.”

The General pulled his sleeve away and gave Emiriak and indignant look. “I know what I need to do, Czak Myar,” he sniffed.

Watching the General approach the jail, Emiriak allowed his rage to grow. He knew, with almost certainty, that the companions had escaped, and that thought further inflamed his temper. Only someone as irritating as they could escape from a heavily guarded jail and manage to strip every Knight of their armor, scattering it along the courtyard for the early-rising citizens of Haven to see. The situation grew worse by the fact that the time for finding the companions had run out. If they were not here, then Emiriak possessed only one option.

Emiriak’s reverie was broken by Barterrin’s return, and the leader of the Czak Myar fixed the Knight with a cold glare, his momentarily forgotten rage returning in an instant. “What did you find out, Barterrin?” he growled.

“Just as I suspected,” answered Barterrin. “Lord Alshien and the foolish contingent of Knights have allowed your enemies to escape. Apparently the two prisoners managed to subdue four guardian mages right in front of Alshien’s eyes. I think now is the time t…”

Emiriak’s rage did not even permit him a smile as his sword bit deep into Barterrin’s stomach, effectively silencing the man’s speech. The remaining Knight guards drew their weapons to defend their leader, but Emiriak, drawing upon reserves of power he did not know he possessed, pinned them down to the ground using an invisible force drawn from the V’cir blade. The Czak Myar barely even noticed the Knights’ struggle for their lives under the crushing power of the force that he summoned, so preoccupied was he with his next task. He would waste no more time searching vainly for the bloody Half-elf and his ilk.

Pulling the small gray orb from his pouch, Emiriak spoke the words that activated its mystical power. The gray of the orb quickly changed to a swirl of colors, and he spoke with a loud, forceful voice into the sphere.

“Petyon.” He was irritated that he did not get an immediate response from his second in command. “Petyon! Answer me, or I will flay your hide in strips of jerky!”

“I’m here, my Lord,” came the response from the orb. Petyon’s voice sounded faint, due, Emiriak knew, to the distance and Petyon’s own weak will.

“Assemble the men, Petyon. Today, we attack Haven.” Emiriak grinned menacingly as he envisioned his revenge on the Knights that had allowed the escape. “We will bathe the Knights of the First Order in their own blood!”

© 1998 C.A. Lutke