Heirs of the Enemy (57 page)

“We have already attacked the temple,” answered Garth.

Headman’s brow creased with disbelief. His eyes drifted over the Rangers once more and he shook his head. “You attacked the temple and didn’t suffer a single wound? Did you catch the priest outside perchance?”

“We were not quite so lucky,” smiled Garth, “but Mya did smile upon us. We had to enter the temple and kill them all, but our objective was attained.”

“You entered the temple, killed everyone inside, and left the city without setting off any alarms? Are you having fun at my expenses, Garth Shado?”

The twenty thieves were listening intently to the conversation, and they began to stare at the black-clad warriors as if they were warrior gods.

“Garth is not lying to you,” interjected Tedi. “If you do not believe him, Natia will be joining us soon. You can ask her. She stayed behind to see what the government’s reaction would be.”

“Natia stuck her head out rather far to make it all happen,” explained Garth. “We want to make sure that she is still welcome in the city. Besides that, she needs to plant some seeds of doubt concerning some important information we received yesterday.”

“I stand in awe of you Alceans,” declared Headman. “I had some reservations about you leaving only five of your warriors to train all of my men, but I no longer harbor any doubts as to their abilities.”

“Let me introduce you to Corporal Azara,” Garth said as he led the elf to one of the team leaders. “He will be in charge of training your men. While you may rule your men in the city, Corporal Azara will demand control over their training. There will be no playing favorites out here, and there will be no exceptions to the rules. Make sure that your men are aware of that. Azara will be trying his best to make warriors out of your thieves in a short period of time, and that will require pushing them rather hard.”

“I have already explained the procedures to my men,” Headman assured the corporal. “Once they report to you for training, they are yours until you give them leave to return to the city. Make them half the men you Rangers are, and we will surprise the Federation inside their own cities.”

* * * *

The banging on the door was loud and urgent. Natia rolled over and rubbed her eyes. She had been expecting the visit, but so much time had passed without any knock on her door that she had fallen asleep waiting for it. The gypsy princess pulled on a robe and made her way to the door of the suite. She opened the door and Colonel Fisker rushed in. Natia frowned at him and closed the door.

“I am planning an early departure,” complained Natia. “I could have used more sleep. What time is it?”

“It is still an hour before dawn,” the colonel replied excitedly. “I was hoping to catch you before you left the city.”

“What is it that cannot wait until a decent hour?” Natia grumbled as she moved to the couch and plopped down on it.

“The temple was attacked tonight,” Colonel Fisker reported. “Everyone is dead.”

Natia’s eyes opened wide and her body stiffened. “Did you move the patrols?” she asked with concern.

“I did,” nodded the colonel.

“Oh, I am sorry,” Natia replied with sympathy. “I never should have mentioned my suspicions to you. I hope that I have not gotten you into trouble.”

“Moving the patrols made no difference,” reported the colonel. “There was no battle.”

“No battle?” frowned the gypsy princess. “I thought you said that everyone was dead.”

“Everyone is dead, but it appears that they all died of some type of poisoning. The bodies all had a blue tint to them, and there was not a pool of blood anywhere in the building.”

“How interesting,” Natia responded with sudden interest. “Who delivered their food and water?”

“I have men checking that out right now. We have not found the source of the poison yet, but there is little doubt about the cause of death. While it is still too early to know where the tainted food came from, I find it hard to believe that the rebels would be the supplier. I am sure that the temple gets an allotment of food from the city. They would have little need to contract a vendor for more. I suspect that this will lead back to the Federation. That is why I wanted you to know before you departed. I hope you don’t mind that I woke you up.”

“No,” smiled Natia. “You were right to inform me, and I appreciate it. I should carry word of this latest tactic to Despair. Perhaps it will help them catch the assassins.” Natia frowned deeply and appeared to be pensively distracted. The colonel watched her closely, wondering what she was thinking. Suddenly, Natia looked the colonel in the eyes. “Perhaps, we are both chasing the wrong dogs. What if the priests are being killed by a group that is not aligned with either the rebels or the army?”

“Who could that be?”

“The Temples of Balmak hold a special relationship with the Black Citadel, do they not?”

“The Black Citadel is the training ground for all black-cloaks,” protested the colonel, “and two of their number were killed in the temple. That makes no sense.”

“It makes no sense unless there is a split among their leadership,” retorted Natia. “I happen to know that the Badgers have been doing some work for the Black Citadel, and it involves hostages of some kind. Do you have any idea what that might be about?”

“The Badgers?” gasped the colonel. “I was not sure that such a group still existed. They are assassins of legend.”

“Well,” Natia smiled inwardly, “the attack on the temple last night certainly sounds like a deed of legends.”

“You have a point,” Colonel Fisker replied as he nodded in consideration of the idea. “I do find it hard to believe that the rebels could have possibly pulled this off, and the only thing pointing to the army is the assassins’ abilities to go places where the rebels could not go. I do think we have both been looking in the wrong places for the answers to these attacks, but I am ill-equipped to start an investigation of the Black Citadel. The black-cloaks are a closed society reportable to no country, and the Badgers, if they do indeed still exist, are the killers of kings and nobles. Such a confederation of the two groups would be an ominous union of unimaginable consequence.”

“I have no doubt whatsoever that Badgers have been visiting the Black Citadel,” Natia said with conviction. “The question is why?”

Colonel Fisker started pacing the room. After a while, he halted in front of the window and stared out into the darkness of the night. Silent moments dragged by until the colonel suddenly turned to face Natia.

“There is more at stake here than just the well being of some priests,” he said softly. “Such a union could topple governments. I must take this information to King Anator.”

“Be cautious, my friend,” warned Natia, “and do not mention my name. My effectiveness rests upon my anonymity.”

“Your name will not be mentioned,” promised the colonel. “We must meet and talk again when you return to Giza.”

Natia nodded. “Can you supply me with a pass out of the city? I really do want to get an early start.”

“You will need no pass,” answered the colonel. “The gates are open. Everyone in the temple was long dead when it was discovered. It made no sense to issue an alarm.”

“How was it discovered?” asked the Knight of Alcea.

“Someone noticed that the two sentries outside the rear door were missing. Sometimes they change shifts during the night, so no one was concerned for an hour or so, but when no replacements ever appeared, soldiers were sent to check. They found everyone dead.”

Natia nodded and rose to her feet, anxious to dismiss the colonel. Colonel Fisker took the hint and smiled at Natia. He bade her farewell and exited the room. Natia dressed and packed her belongings. Within the hour, she had exited the city. By the time she reached the rendezvous, five of the Rangers and twenty of the thieves had already departed to begin their training.

“How did the meeting go?” Tedi asked as Natia dismounted.

“As good as we could hope for,” smiled Natia. “King Anator will soon have word that the Badgers are involved in some internal dispute within the Black Citadel. I am not sure how long it will be before such news is spread throughout the Federation, but we need to get word to Clint so that he has time to prepare.”

“What is going on?” Headman asked nervously. “What does the Black Citadel have to do with King Anator? Are your people Badgers?”

Garth placed his hand on the thief’s shoulder in a reassuring manner. “We are exactly what we told you, Headman. We are trying to get King Anator to believe that the Badgers are responsible for the attacks, but there is more to it than just that. The Badgers kidnapped some important people and took them to the Black Citadel. We are searching for a way to get those hostages moved so that we can get our hands on them.”

“I suppose that the hostages are people that the Badgers would not want to be found by any authorities traveling to the Black Citadel?”

“I am not sure what the Badgers will do, but I am fairly certain that the black-cloaks would not want to appear to be involved in the kidnapping. My hope is that the black-cloaks will demand that the Badgers find a new home for the hostages.”

“And when they do,” Tedi smiled thinly, “we will rescue them.”

“From Badgers?” Headman gasped in disbelief. “Badgers are like ghosts. They are seldom seen and never captured. These hostages must be very important to risk your men on such an attack.”

“It is possible that rescuing them could avert the coming war,” answered Garth. “If there is any chance of avoiding such massive bloodshed, I must take it.”

Wylan sat on a rock in the forest just out of sight of the monastery. He made a point to leave the building two or three times a day to safely talk with Twerp. The fairy had been indispensable in gathering information and recording secret conversations, and that knowledge allowed Wylan to cause Samuel to question his allegiance to the brotherhood, but so far the prince’s doubt had not been strong enough to break away from the others. Wylan sighed as he realized that he was running out of time. Any day now, Brother Nicholas might return.

“The prince is coming,” Twerp said as he swooped down and landed on Wylan’s shoulder.

“Is he alone?”

“Yes.”

“Patrol the area. Let me know if anyone else comes this way.”

The fairy leaped off Wylan’s shoulder and disappeared among the trees. A few minutes later, the Knight of Alcea heard the approaching footsteps.

“I thought I would find you out here,” Brother Samuel said in greeting. “May I join you?”

“That would please me,” smiled Wylan. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Thinking about me?” the monk asked as he sat down next to Wylan. “I am hardly worth thinking about. You should be praying and demanding that the gods repent.”

“Every man is worth thinking about,” replied Wylan. “How long have you been a member of the brotherhood?”

“Eight years,” answered the monk.

“So you have spent almost half of your life following Brother Nicholas. Have you managed to impress the gods yet with your calls for justice?”

Brother Samuel frowned. “Why do you ask questions when you know the answers?”

“To make you see the truth. You are an intelligent person, Samuel, yet you are far blinder than I. You stand in a dark tunnel, and you can see light ahead of you. You trudge towards it, believing that it is the only path to exit the tunnel, but you are wrong. Turn around, my friend. There is another exit, but you have been steadfastly ignoring it.”

Samuel’s frown deepened and he shook his head in confusion. “You appear angry with me today. What difference does it make which exit I use from this tunnel?”

“Because one exit leads to life, and the other leads to death. You are on a path to oblivion, Samuel. I am trying to lead you in the right direction, but my words are falling on deaf ears, and I am almost out of time.”

Brother Samuel rose to his feet. “You are much too angry today. I think you need time alone to meditate. I will return to the monastery.”

“No, Prince Samuel,” scowled Wylan. “You will stay and listen to me.”

The monk’s jaw dropped, and he stared at the blind man with a look of horror. “You know who I am?”

“It is because I know who you are that I am here. Sit down.”

“How did you know?” the prince asked nervously.

“I learned of your location by way of the Creator. Sit down. I am not here to harm you.”

Prince Samuel’s horror gave way to curiosity, and he sat down on the rock. “Why are you here then?”

“To educate you. The gods have not forsaken Spino. You were born in the year of the Collapse. An evil magician named Sarac caused the Collapse of the Universes, not the gods. When the Universes combined, a desert that existed in another Universe covered Sirocca. The Darkness that blotted out the sun and the stars was also caused by Sarac.”

“These are fairy tales,” interrupted Samuel. “There is nothing recorded in history that validates such tales.”

“But there is,” retorted Wylan, “and I can prove it all to you, but let me finish first. There was an ancient prophecy that foretold of the Collapse, and that prophecy foretold the rise of a boy king who, with the help of others, would slay the evil sorcerer and restore the world. Do you remember a few years ago when the sun and the stars returned to the sky?”

“I remember that day clearly,” answered Samuel. “Brother Nicholas said that we were finally getting through to the gods.”

“Hogwash. That boy king accomplished the clearing of the skies, and he did it in seven stages. Each time he restored a gem to the Sword of Heavens, another portion of the Darkness rolled away until all the skies were clear. I should know because I stood by King Arik’s side when he did it.”

“King Arik?” frowned the monk. “Who is he?”

“King Arik is the King of Alcea.”

Samuel leaped to his feet again. He nervously backed away from Wylan. “You are Alcean?” he gasped.

“I am,” admitted Wylan. “Does that scare you?”

“Yes. You are an enemy of the Federation.”

“I am indeed,” smiled Wylan. “Aren’t you?”