Dark Fate: The Gathering (The Dark Fate Chronicles Book 1) (70 page)

T
EACHER
stumbled from the dark portal into the jungles surrounding Waterfall Citadel. Shock and fear painted his features. The skin of his face was grey with fatigue.

When he closed his eyes against the bright morning sun, the vision of Terrandal swam before his eyes, forcing him to snap them back open to cleanse his mind of the sight. The faint Dausos reflection of Terrandal, so majestic and beautiful in the bright-yellow morning sun, had been covered with a hive of the shadow creatures that populated the spirit world. Hundreds, if not thousands, of the wicked monsters had made their home amongst the branches and roots of the tree’s spiritual image on the other side.

Teacher fell to his knees and shivered after closing the portal behind him.
I must have been insane
, he thought. Using Dausos to travel was a fool’s game, but what other choice had he? Rylan’s trail had not been visible to him in the real world, and he was not willing to abandon the child to whatever fate awaited her at the end of such a perilous journey. He still had no clues as to the identity of the kidnapper, but he knew anybody, or anything, that would willingly command the spirit creatures to perform such heinous acts could have no good end in mind for the child.

For days, he had been sure he was gaining on the abductors. The warm glow of the child’s vibrant spirit had gotten so strong, he kept expecting her to materialize in the hands of some creature just ahead. Suddenly, her presence had gone cold, indicating either that she was dead or had exited that plane entirely. He followed the trail until it ended, and it had led him here, to Waterfall Citadel. He had searched around the spirit reflection of the city while still in the dark reaches of Dausos, but he found no other trace of the girl.

She can’t be dead
. He thought, getting back to his feet. It would make no sense to enter one world, drag the child hundreds of miles through a plane that would constantly be trying to consume her, and then kill her with no ceremony or sign to indicate what had happened. No, she must be in the city. His heels dragged as he lumbered to the southern bridge of the Citadel.

Teacher whispered an apology to Rylan as he entered the flow of traffic into and out of the city. Even though he was confident she would be found somewhere within, he was in no shape to effect a rescue. Whatever force was responsible for the abduction, it was reasonable to expect there would be ample power and resources arrayed against Teacher’s efforts. He would need to be at his prime to face this, if he was to have any chance of liberating the girl.

The city bustled with a level of activity that surprised him. Sacha’s sister had apparently become Alexander’s bride several days prior, but many celebrants still wandered the streets. Farmers wheeling carts into town with their goods nudged aside softly singing groups of chuckling people that resisted the rising sun’s urge to quell their revelry.

Teacher allowed the crowd to usher him to a quieter, more rundown section of Waterfall Citadel. The crowds thinned significantly here, searching not only for beds, but for streets where the likelihood of a picked pocket was perhaps not so high.

Directly ahead of him, and wedged between the billowing steam of a smithy and an empty auction block, sat a tiny tavern. A broken sign with anchors and fishing nets adorning each side hung askew on a rusted pole just above the entrance. One of the bleary revelers had said Fisherman’s Harbor was the only place in the whole city that had rooms available. After laying eyes on the rotted doors and sparse thatching on the roof, Teacher could see why.

The dark-eyed mage sighed and walked across the muddy street to the inn’s crooked doors. He hadn’t thought it would be possible for the building to be worse on the inside. A half-dozen worn-looking tables were haphazardly distributed on an uneven and littered floor that was coated with a slimy mixture Teacher didn’t care to think too much about. He gagged slightly as he walked to the bar. Vile smells of fish, blood, and vomit assaulted his nose and throat.

“Barkeep,” said Teacher, drawing the proprietor’s attention from two old leathery-faced men who were the only other apparent patrons. “I’ll need a room for the day.”

The man behind the bar was as tall as Teacher but twice as thick. His long, scraggly hair was oily and moved in thick, tangled clumps as his sullen gaze roved over Teacher. “Ya want a room, is it?” His heavy-lidded brown eyes settled on Teacher’s face with a look of contempt. “I think yer in the wrong place, Milord.”

“I’ll pay you for two nights.” Teacher said, flashing some coin. “For one day’s stay.”

The rough barkeep eyed the coins, then frowned. “You look like trouble ta me.” He leaned closer to Teacher. “And I don’t need no trouble.”

“Three nights.” He placed another coin in front of the barkeep.

The burly man’s eyes cut to the two old men farther down the bar. Their heads dropped to examine their drinks. The barkeep rolled one heavy shoulder. “Ya shouldn’t throw that kind of coin around here, Milord.” His dark eyes came back to meet Teacher’s. “Could get ya in a bad way, real quick.”

Teacher’s own gaze remained steady and calm. “I’ll take my chances. The room?”

The oily haired man shook his head and smirked. “Yeah, ya got yerself a room.” He pulled a key from below his dirty apron and set it upon the bar. His other hand scooped up the coins. “In the back, to the right. Don’t leave a mess.” He laughed and turned back to his bottles.

“Thank you,” Teacher replied. Dark humor for a dark place. As he followed the barkeep’s instructions, he reflected on the days he had lived as a poor man. There had been days when the accommodations around him might have seemed sumptuous.
Well
, he thought as he shook something unidentifiable from the toe of his boot,
maybe not “sumptuous.”

The “room” was a glorified closet, with a hammock for a bed and no window. Pinpricks of light that streamed through gaps in the wood fell upon a makeshift nightstand that had been cobbled together from salvaged wood. It leaned against one wall and comprised the only furnishing beyond the hammock. The stand supported a single unlit candle in a battered brass tray.

Teacher smiled. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about the lice and mites that infested traditional straw bedding. For what he intended, this place was perfect. All he required was a place to sleep.

Teacher called upon the Shamonrae and willed the arcane power that filled him into a box of unmovable force on the walls, floor, and ceiling of the tiny room.
That should hamper any unwanted guests
, he thought. Teacher did not bother to disrobe. He simply crawled into the hammock and let his exhaustion finally claim him.

A hammering at the door woke Teacher with a jolt.

“Yer day’s up!” The angry voice of the barkeep was muted by the wooden boards and force wall he had placed, but Teacher could still make out the words. “Ya hear me? Yer day’s up!”

Teacher blinked. The room was pitch black and the low rumble of a crowd could be heard through the unseen walls. He must have slept the entire day.

More pounding came from the door, followed by a scraping noise at the lock. “Ya still in there? I can’t open the door, damn ya!”

A yawn escaped from Teacher’s lips and he stretched mightily in the hammock. He felt good. The fatigue that had threatened to overwhelm him earlier had been reduced to a muted lethargy at the back of his mind. He pushed away the last of his weary thoughts and opened himself to the Shamonrae. Energy flowed through him in a rush, and his skin prickled as his body became invigorated. He willed a small fiery ball of light into existence and lit the candle that sat on the rickety nightstand. He looked around the small room and smiled; nothing had changed.

The thunderous assault on the door came a third time. This time, the barkeep’s shouting voice was somewhat hoarse. “Wake up, ya too-good slacker!” Teacher could hear his muttering on the other side of the door.

Teacher stood and dropped the walls of force that had protected him in his sleep. He went to the door and opened it.

Sounds of drinking, gambling, and coarse laughter rolled over him like a wave. The oily haired barkeep had his fist raised to beat on the door again, but he lowered it with a deep scowl. “Ya took long enough,” he grunted. Two large men stood behind him, filling the narrow hall. Their thick, scarred knuckles and broad shoulders were sure signs of their occupation.

Teacher tilted his head slightly. “My apologies. Thank you for waking me.” He produced another coin. “For your trouble.”

The barkeep’s eyes widened at the sight of another coin and he snatched it from Teacher’s fingers. “Very well, be off with ya.” Without waiting for a reply, the barkeep turned and pushed his two thugs to the side as he stormed down the hall. “Outta my way, ya stupid fools!

Teacher smiled pleasantly at the two men, who gave him resentful stares, as though it were his fault their master was in foul temper. He tapped the power he had drawn in, infusing his limbs with strength and bolstering his sight and hearing. When he followed the oily man, the two shifted to the sides and let him pass. The twin heartbeats sped up slightly as he passed between them, but neither made a grab for him.
Perhaps I was wrong
, Teacher thought as he left the brawlers behind and took in the sights before him.

The tiny tavern was transformed. Men with hard, calloused hands and rugged faces filled every available space. Women from the brothel across the street prowled through the crowd in search of their next customers. Raised voices, cheers, and catcalls followed the rattle and tumble of dice at many of the slanting tables, and a flautist had been wedged into a remote corner where he was piping out a merry, if off-key melody.

Teacher waded into the crowd and immediately felt the touch of a hand as it brushed his thigh. He turned his head just enough to see one of the whores smiling at him as he passed. Teacher bowed his head in acknowledgement but did not stop. The woman’s touch was but the first of several, but most were not seeking negotiation for his affection. His money pouch was tied securely behind his belt, although it was not the loss of money that concerned him presently. He could feel the eyes of the barkeep’s two men watching him move through the crowd.

The ragged doors creaked as he pushed through them to the outside. The city had come to life while he recovered from his hunt for Rylan. Small groups shambled from one building to the next, singing, in most cases, poorly. Calls of praise for Prince Alexander and his new bride floated to Teacher’s enhanced ears along with more sounds of general celebration from all around him.

“Oy?!” a thick voice called from behind him as he turned into the nearest alley.

Teacher stopped and let out a short breath. So much for being mistaken.

The dull-eyed bruisers from Fisherman’s Harbor approached him at a slow gait. Their hands hung easily at their sides and the larger of the two wore a pleasant smile. At least, it would have been pleasant, if not for the nasty scar along his upper lip, which made it look more like a sneer. “Ya made a right mess in the room back there.” The large man jabbed his callused thumb over his shoulder. “You’ll be needin’ to pay for that.”

Teacher smiled, knowing this had been done before, likely dozens of times. “I believe you are mistaken, friends,” Teacher replied.

A sharp exhalation and a scuff of leather on stone came to his sharpened ears.

Teacher took a giant, leaning step backward while leaving one foot extended.

The filthy man who came charging in from his right rushed by, tripping on Teacher’s outstretched foot. Cursing and stumbling, the thug crashed into a knot of people as they staggered by.

Teacher drew his outstretched foot back, rising to his full height, then he quickly stepped to one side, chopping outward with a flattened hand.

The second attacker stopped cold as the ridge of Teacher’s palm collapsed the cartilage in his throat. The man gagged and fell to his knees, coughing uncontrollably.

Teacher had not taken his eyes from the pair in front of him. “This needn’t go any further, friends. I will count it as a misunderstanding and be on my way.”

Neither of the two brutes seemed to be daunted by the fact that their partners had been so easily laid out. Their hands clenched into fists and they approached Teacher with murder in their eyes. A yell erupted from the struggling knot of people, and the first man who had attacked came charging once more.

Teacher lashed out with his heel as the enraged attacker closed in with hands upraised. The kick connected with the unfortunate man’s crotch, and he joined his weakly struggling companion on the cobblestones.

The pair from the Fisherman’s Harbor charged forward.

Teacher’s hand flicked up and an invisible wall of force sprang into being between him and his attackers.

The two bruisers slammed into the wall with terrific force. Scar-lip hit the wall with his face and he fell backward without even trying to break his fall. His close-cropped hair provided no cushion, and the thud of his skull rebounding from the stones was clearly audible.

The second man’s raised hands collided with the wall first, slowing him just enough that he did not lose consciousness as his face connected with the unseen barrier. He staggered back unsteadily with blood flowing freely from his crushed nose and split lip.