A Mage's Power (Journey to Chaos) (42 page)

“By way of telepathy, I was informed that Kasile was being
held in the sewer. My source never gave me a name so I don't know who it could
be.”

Plas put his hands on his hips. “That gives me more
questions than answers.”

“He gave you all the information he could, so answer his
question.” Kasile pointed regally and added. “Don't make me go 'Royal Decree'
on you.”

Plas held up his hands in surrender. “All right, all right.
It's been eight years.”

There was a knock on the door and a voice said, “Chief!
Status Report!” Without standing, Plas told them to come in. The door opened
and two people entered. One man and one woman; one wore light armor and the
other a runed robe.

“All the rogues have been arrested,” the man said. “Except
the mastermind. Even under truth serum, none of them knew his name. All they
said was 'red eyes.'” Plas' own red eyes narrowed. “All of them resisted arrest
and ten were killed, plus one more who was reported dead before we arrived.”

“All of their equipment has been confiscated,” the woman
said. “The current loot count is twenty five different weapons of good quality
steel and workmanship, the same amount of light armor of equal quality, a
stockpile of various items, mostly negative status effect, and enough food and
water to last another three months. The loot crew is still looking for secret
stashes. There were also two men shackled in one of the cells, both asleep and
naked.”

Eric hid a smile.

“Good work. Anything else?”

“Yes, Chief,” the woman said. “We searched the cells and you
were right. We found eighteen sapients locked up. One of them is Second Duke
Siron of Esrah. They're being cared for as we speak.”

“One more thing, Chief,” the man said. “There is one among
the suspects who insists he is a mercenary of the Dragon's Lair, but lacks the
badge proving so.”

Eric and Kasile quickly glanced at each other. “Does he have
spiky purple hair?”

“And a zanbatou?”

Both messengers chuckled.

“Yeah,” the woman said. “I asked if he was compensating and
he went berserk. Even handcuffed it took four of us to hold him down.”

“Culmus!” both mercenary and princess said simultaneously.

“You know him?” the man asked.

“He came with me to rescue Kasile,” Eric said.

“We'll vouch for his identity,” Kasile said.

 Plas shrugged. “Good enough for me. Order his release and
the return of his belongings.”

“Ah abyss . . .” the man groaned. “I was looking forward to
using that giant sword . .  . . .”

“Oh come on!” Even as the door closed, Eric heard her
talking. “You can't even lift it!”

He stared at the door and the so-called “police” beyond it.
They lacked uniforms. They spoke of the Black Cloak's equipment like war
spoils.
Outlaw vs. Rogue
DID say they worked like privateers . . .

Plas stood up. “Well, I gotta go read 'em their rights. You
two should be all right here.”

“Ahh . . . Chief Bladi?” Eric asked.

Plas chuckled. “You don't work for me so you don't have to
call me 'chief.'”

“Oh . . . uh . . .with all due respect, you guys look like
bandits.”

Plas chuckled again. “Yeah, we get that a lot. If you doubt
me, here's my badge.”

Pulling off the gauntlet on his left hand, he showed Eric
the back of his palm; aside from scars, it was bare. He clenched and a tattoo
appeared: a silver dragon spreading its wings in full flight. “Our organization
is two thousand years old and involves much of Tariatla.” Plas replaced his
gauntlet. “To explain why we do things the way we do I'd have to make this a
classroom.”

You were alive back then, right?

Yes. Do not ask for anecdotes.

You have time!
Eric felt a wave of shock from Dengel.
Are you meeting someone? Perhaps a ghost living in someone else's head?

I do not find it prudent to talk about such things in a
potentially dangerous area. The 'police force' might have missed someone
.  

“Duty calls.” Plas bowed his head to Kasile and waved to
Eric. The doorway flashed red as he left. Kasile cleared her throat and locked
eyes with Eric.

“Eric, I want to thank you.”

“Sure, you're welcome . . . but I didn't really do anything
. . .”

Kasile shook her head. “It was because of you I escaped; you
taught me battle magic.”

“But how did mana bolts help? You were tied up.” Kasile
smiled a sly smile. There was something quite scary about it.

“Who said I used mana bolts?”

She stood up and walked to the former warden's desk. It was
very old, but since the steel walls kept out moisture and insects, it was still
in good condition. The princess ran her pale and delicate fingers over its
surface and created five lines cleared of dust. Suddenly she grew five claws of
blue light and slashed. Nothing happened. Then she nudged the center and it
fell in six pieces.

 Eric's mouth hung open. “I didn't teach you that!”

“I had a lot of free time.” Kasile wiggled her ethereal
claws. “So I experimented.”

Puzzle solved: Kasile went to their Mental Meeting Room and
used the basics Eric taught her to further teach herself. She built on that to
cut her bindings. From there she waited for a Black Cloak to drop by with her
meal and pounced like a tiger.

Suddenly, Kasile was only a foot away. Then she hugged him.

Now Eric considered Kasile his friend and it is natural for
friends to hug. However, that didn't change the fact that Kasile was a girl and
holding him closely. Her chest was pressed against his own. Her hair landed
across his face; soft despite her captivity. He put his arms around her in
return.
Forget the loot!
This
made the trip worth it!
Then Culmus walked in.

With a cry of delight, Kasile released Eric and glomped on
the swordsman. He clutched her to his chest and repeatedly asked if she was all
right. She said “yes” over and over again. Then their lips were crushed
together. Eric blushed and turned around; he shouldn't watch. He would have
left the room entirely, but they were making out in the front of the door. When
the rustle of cloth and passionate gasps stopped, Eric judged it safe to look.

“So . . . I guess we should go back now. . .”

Plas had forty warriors with him, mostly humans with other
species mixed in. The mages stood at the perimeter of the group and held
illuminated staves, the fighters stood in the center to keep an eye on the
criminals, and the healers tended to the victims.

 All the men charged with Kasile's kidnapping were herded to
the center and those on the outer ring had a dagger at their necks. At first,
Eric thought this was excessive, but then he noticed how many were bandaged and
remembered how many died.

They kidnapped the
Crown Princess
;
the sole
heir. If something happened to her it would send ripples to every corner of the
nation, and if Tariatla was as globalized as Threa, the rest of the world. They
kidnapped others as well; civilians and another noble. They were scarred in
unusual places and others had mutations. Add the civilian causalities and
collateral damage they caused at the Joust and they were looking at a life
sentence if they were lucky.

Plas led the group and Kasile allowed him to do so because
she had to mediate her would-be rescuers. The mercenary Culmus and the noble
Siron were on the verge of fighting each other. The only thing stopping them
were the kind words of their princess and the fact that she pushed them apart.

“Don't fight!” she demanded. “You're
both
special to
me.”

“He's a charity!

“He's a robot!”

Siron Esrah's armor was dented and torn; he himself was
covered in cuts and bruises, but Eric could still tell he was nobility. It was
the way he carried himself and walked with confidence on the slimy stones. His
opinion of them matched his opinion of the boy across from him.

Siron spat at his feet. “Go back to your lair!”

Culmus threw slime at his face. “Go back to your forge!”

“
Please
.” Kasile brought them side by side and held
both their gazes. “Don't fight.”

They shuffled awkwardly.

Siron bowed his head. “Forgive my anger, Your Highness.”

Culmus did the same a moment later. “I'm sorry, too.”

“Shake hands.”

They did, and to her delight, they didn't try to crush the
other's hand in a blatant display of macho. She was so happy she linked arms
with them both and hummed a tune. They glared at each other behind her back.

One of the police sidled over to them. “Hey, aren't you the
dude Kasile favored at the Joust?”

Siron's fist clenched before he replied. “I will thank you
to refer to Her Highness by her title and myself by mine: Lord Siron, second
duke of Esrah.”

“What was that, the third time?”

Siron glanced sidelong at Culmus. “
Fourth
.”

“In Najica . . .” Culmus said, “The character representing
'Four' resembles the one for 'Death'.”

Siron drew his sword and struck. As fast as lightning,
Culmus couldn't dodge it. The blade slid past him and sliced an emil emerging
from the muck. With a spirit flare, he shattered the stone and it dissolved
back into sewer water. A faint smile graced his face.

“Speak of Death and he appears.”

More monsters arrived and the police routed them. It took
them longer to plunder the bodies. Eric didn't bother because his pack was
full. If they noticed
his
loot, they might confiscate it. He needed it
to line his own pockets with gold and his only obstacle was time. While waiting
at a ladder he asked, “What was that place? It looked like a torture chamber.”

“It was indeed.” Kasile said in cold fury. “The Darwoss used
it in ages past.”

This was the answer he expected, but it was nice to be
proven right. Silver-haired Norej and his father had sticks shoved so far up
their butts he suspected they enjoyed shoving sharp objects into other people.
No doubt, their more powerful ancestors were worse.

“How long is 'ages past'?” Eric asked.

Siron, covered in fresh muck from assisting the outlaws,
sheathed his sword. “It was officially abandoned five hundred years ago, but
there are accounts of its use in later years. There are people who insist that
it is in use today by organizations other than the Black Cloaks.” He spoke in a
crisp, collected voice; someone who looked before he leaped.
Why did he
attempt a rescue on his own?

Plas spotted a manhole and the large party began their final
ascent. First, ten outlaws climbed the ladder and formed a circle. Next, the victims
climbed up. Once they all reached the surface safely, the criminals were
levitated and followed by the remaining police.

Siron gestured to the ladder. “After you, brave mercenary.”

Culmus returned the gesture. “No, after you. You must be
tired from your ordeal.”

“It is the duty of nobles to look after the
rest
.”

“My guild would look bad if I abandoned a
victim.”

Kasile walked between them. “Ladies first.” She grabbed a
rung. “I'm counting on both of you to catch me if I fall.” She feigned weakness
and they rushed to her support. She smiled and Eric could almost see hearts
fluttering over the boys. “Thank you. I've had so little to eat lately.”

Simultaneously, they stood straight and placed their sword
hand over their heart.

“Your Highness is safe with—” They spared a sidelong glance
at the other. “
Me
.”

The princess' serene smile didn't falter, but her thoughts
were sad.
Eric, keep our link a secret.

Uh . . . sure . . . How come?

Kasile began her ascent.
Don't you think it would be fun
to have a private line of communication that no one else knew about?

Eric looked at the boys. They had one eye on her and one eye
on each other.
Yes.

 By the time they were all back on the surface, the sun had
gone to sleep and so had most of the people. Plas was glad he didn't have to
spare officers for crowd control. If Kasile was mobbed by her adoring public
while they had rogues to deliver one of them might try something.

Here the police split in two: half took the criminals to
Ataidar's Justice Station and half escorted Kasile to the palace gates. By her “request,”
Eric and Culmus were allowed to join them.

“Plas, you know how I found Kasile, but how did you do it?”

Plas rustled his head. “With your help. She was a tough nut
to crack, but that Dark Staff you caught eventually agreed to cooperate. We
gave her a lighter sentence in exchange for info.”

“You know I did that?”

Plas laughed. “Do I ever . . . During our drinking match
with Death, he wouldn't shut up about it.”

The novice beamed.

“What about you, Lord Siron? How'd you find her?”

The young noble looked ahead to the castle. “I was endurance
training in the sewers and saw figures running by in black cloaks. I determined
it worth investigating. Would you mind answering your own question, Mercenary
Watley?”

With a straight face, Eric said, “By way of telepathy I was
informed that Kasile was being held in the sewer. My source never gave me a
name, so I don't know who it could be.”

Plas grinned. “Only you, Princess, could get so many men
into a river of waste.” Kasile blushed and her boyfriends scowled at Plas, who
laughed.

The palace gate guards were ecstatic. They ushered Kasile
and Siron within the curtain wall with only one remaining to debrief Plas. The
guard thanked him and vanished into the castle. The outlaws dispersed and Eric
was left standing outside the closed palace gates, with Culmus.

“Think we'll get a reward?” he asked his fellow mercenary.