Cathexis: Necromancer's Dagger (6 page)

Jatar pondered this new information and
looked for some logical explanation.

His wife's voice hardened to steel, "Well
there is one thing I’ll do for you, when you’re both sworn
into
a fair duel I’ll watch his
aura
to see
if he lies. If he
speaks falsehood then I’ll drag out the truth. In a fair
duel,
I know you will take him
easily, so it follows that if I make sure the fight is fair, all
will be well.”

“Midnight is only a half bell away; I should
change into something more appropriate for
swordplay
and begin warming up,” Jatar decided.

“I want to check on Michael, something is
wrong here, I’m sure of it, I just don’t know what.” With an
apprehensive
look,
Elizabeth
headed for the nursery to see their young son.

A coach pulled by two pitch-black horses
clopped to a halt on Tanner street. Exhalations jetted from the
dark horses' nostrils like sporadic bursts of steam from the spout
of a boiling teapot. The shades over the coach windows were closed
to give the lone occupant privacy from the groups of drunken
commoners that staggered along the city streets looking for their
next tavern. The coach’s occupant waited inside until the street
was empty. That didn’t take long, this was a seedy part of town and
most of those celebrating avoided it instinctively.

A cloaked shape left the coach when it was
only a half bell until midnight. He crossed the rough uneven street
swiftly. The cobblestones were already wet with the night’s dew and
a mist was just beginning to form.

Major Von Dracek left the coach in the care
of his driver and slipped into the dark maw of a silent alley
mouth. Two alley
purclaws
were
startled and scrambled to get out of his way. The major paused at a
rough wooden door on the right side of the narrow alley and
listened to make sure no one was near. Once satisfied that he was
alone he took out a single key from beneath his black cloak and
inserted it into the
waist-high
iron lock. The rusty mechanism opened reluctantly after one
revolution of the
key, and
the
sound of the grinding metal lock screeched eerily in the stillness
of the night.

The conspirator slipped inside and closed
the door
quickly
as if trying to
keep the darkness outside at bay. From there it was only a short
walk down the dim hall to the door at the end. Just as he reached
the door a dead raspy voice spoke from the other side of the wooden
portal. The voice was unmistakably that of CAracusS, the
necromancer, which Von Dracek remembered from a year ago at the
secret meeting of the three conspirators.

“You may enter, Major, the way is open,”
CAracusS rasped.

The Tchulian merc stepped into the dingy
room and saw the necromancer. He sat in the room's only chair and
in front of him there was a small round table. The dingy room was
dimly lit by a single tallow candle on the old table, which was
stuck in a pewter candle holder near the bony fingers of the
necromancer's veined hands.

“Are you ready to go?” Von Dracek inquired,
obviously in a hurry.

“Is everything going as planned at the
palace?” CAracusS asked in return while remaining in his chair.

“Perfectly; in less than a half bell Lord
Jatar will enter into his duel with our fool, Lord Tysol. That
should keep his wife’s attention and more importantly, her powers,
focused on his safety, but we must hurry to get back to the palace
in time.”

CAracusS scowled in disapproval at the
major, which caused the myriad of wrinkles in his brow to dig even
deeper trenches in the lines of his ancient face. “I’ll tell you
straight, I don’t like this part of your plan where I’m drugged.
You didn’t mention that detail at the planning meeting, just in the
most recent message that you sent along with the guard uniforms,”
the necromancer grated.

“It’s the only way, I didn’t know it was
necessary until my last communication from Raven,” Von Dracek lied.
He'd known from the
beginning
but
wanted to make sure the necromancer did not have a chance to argue.
“My spy at the Kirnath School said that a full Adept like Elizabeth
Ardellen
could sense your
conscious necromantic powers from quite a distance. She might sense
you even when she is occupied, and I concur. I can sense you from a
short distance myself, and my training hasn’t been refined in that
area. The only way to be safe is to bring you into the palace
drugged and nearly unconscious while her attention is taken up with
her husband’s struggle. Then if I can’t sense you, we’ll be fairly
certain that she can’t from an even further distance. Tomorrow I
will wake you with the drug’s antidote while the sorceress is at
the church away from the palace. Then you can open the gate to the
Dark Plane.”

CAracusS grimaced as he tried to pull his
thin cracked lips back into the semblance of a smile. “And when
Jatar’s soul is destroyed, I will have his young body. Explain
again why it is that you have some of these Kirnath powers, yet are
not one of them?” the necromancer asked slyly.

“As I’ve told you before, necromancer, that
is none of your business. Just take my word for it that I have some
of the Kirnath skills,” the major answered curtly. “Do you have
everything you need to open the rift to the Darkness?” he asked,
changing the subject back to the details of their plot.

CAracusS' eyes narrowed at the rebuke, but
he answered the merc’s question. “Two of my servants have a drugged
man in the next room; he’ll need to be carried. Will my men have a
problem entering the palace carrying a body?”

“Have they ever bargained with the
Darknulls?” Von Dracek asked in reply.

“No, they are not necromancers,” CAracusS
assured the merc.

“Then the sorceress will not sense them, so
they’ll be no problem. If anyone takes note of your men carrying
him I will say he’s drunk, there is plenty of that going on this
night.” The Merc reached into his pocket and pulled out a small
vial of powder. “Here is the drug I have prepared. Don’t worry
CAracusS, when the time comes I will give you the antidote and you
will come to your full senses within a half bell.”

CAracusS looked at the vial dubiously.

Von Dracek ignored his look and continued.
“You better call your men in for their instructions, we don’t have
much time. The duel will commence soon and if our plan is to work
it is imperative we reach the palace just as it starts.”

As Von Dracek finished speaking he pulled
out the cork from the vial in his hand and carefully poured out a
small amount of gray powder into CAracusS’ upturned palm.

“
Tatrin
pollen,” Von Dracek explained, answering the inquiring look of
CAracusS’ upraised eyebrow.

The necromancer called his two men into the
room. “This is Major Von Dracek and you are to follow his orders
explicitly; do you understand? Good, now go and load the man you
captured earlier into the coach out back.”

After the two henchmen acknowledged
CAracusS’ orders they went to do his bidding.

CAracusS looked at the powder Von Dracek had
given him and paused before he brought it to his mouth. “There
better be no treachery here major, or death will be your best
choice of futures.” After finishing his threat the necromancer
swallowed the powder and washed it down from a wine sack on the
table. Within
moments,
his
cadaverous body became rigid and unmoving in his chair.

“Stand up and follow me,” commanded Von
Dracek. Induced by the
tatrin
pollen’s effect, CAracusS obeyed mechanically.

The necromancer, his two men and the captive
were all dressed in the livery of Tchulian guards, which matched
the driver of the coach. Upon reaching the vehicle Von Dracek
commanded the drug enthralled CAracusS to enter and sit down. One
of the necromancer’s men rode up top with the
driver
while Von Dracek and the others rode
within the dark interior of the coach.

A drunken reveler had paused to watch them
enter the dark coach and depart. He decided that wherever that
morbid party was headed was a good place to avoid; he was smarter
than he knew.

With Michael safely guarded by men whose
loyalty Lady Elizabeth had just confirmed through aura truth
test,
she felt confident enough to
focus her attention on the action about to happen within the
ballroom. She gazed about the room while letting her aura
perceptions rest for a moment on each noble present. None of their
auras showed her anything but excitement for the upcoming
spectacle.

Elizabeth noted the absence of the Tchulian
major and grew uneasy. She remembered him talking with Lord Tysol
earlier, prior to the dinner. She wondered if he was with Tysol now
to give him a few last pointers for the duel. Lady Ardellen figured
that Von Dracek would gravitate toward a combatant since he was a
professional mercenary, and they just loved to see a fight. It was
obvious that he would side with Tysol;
Tchulians
were professional mercenaries, working for the
highest bidder, and their dislike for Lindankar policies for peace
was public knowledge. Elizabeth decided to check and see if he was
indeed with Lord Tysol, and if not she needed to find out what the
Tchulian was planning.

Jatar came in with his three foster brothers
accompanying him like escorts to the
flagship
; they were acting as his official seconds. The
large and
red-bearded
Lord Berelle
Trask walked in front of Jatar, while Lord Pellev and Lord Verdew
followed behind. Berelle led the way through the throng like an
icebreaker ship in the frozen waters of his northern homeland.

They worked their way over to Elizabeth, who
searched her husband’s face as he approached. From what she could
see,
he looked in control and
confident. She did a quick check on his aura and saw blue shades
with a few orange and red tips flickering. Elizabeth read this as
an indication that he was fairly calm, though more anxious than his
demeanor depicted. As he approached she decided to bolster his
confidence a little, so she smiled and said: “Milord is looking fit
this evening, are you going to bother with a sword or will your
dagger suffice?”

Jatar guessed the reason behind her
words
but appreciated the attempt
to lighten his worries. “If milady is so confident of her champion
will she grant him the boon of a keepsake?”

Elizabeth looked down and removed the
wedding ring from her left hand. When she pressed it into her
husband’s palm she said, “Take this ring that you once gave me as a
symbol of your love, now as the symbol of my love, and as the token
of my faith that you will return it to me.”

Elizabeth looked into her husband’s eyes and
witnessed the love within their depths. She released the tiny gold
ring with its single clear stone into his large callused palm. She
placed both of her smaller hands around his hand and closed his
fingers around the keepsake. The ring was too small to fit even his
little finger.

There was a ripple of movement accompanied
by a quiet murmur from the far side of the Ballroom; Lord Tysol had
arrived. Leading the way through the crowd was the captain of his
personal guards, followed by Tysol himself and then two more of his
guards. Lord Tysol’s face was creased with the lines of a scowl as
he surveyed his opponent. He could see Jatar standing across the
room with his wife before him, both her hands still clasped about
one of her husband’s hands. Lord Tysol was not scowling for the
reasons most of the spectators believed; he was upset because Major
Von Dracek, his confidant in this duel, was missing and nowhere to
be found. Tysol could not understand why his friend had not been
there to counsel him before his duel or why he wasn’t here to act
as his second.

Lord Brik Rinholt, ruler of Pruta, had been
chosen to arbitrate the duel. He stepped forward between Jatar and
Tysol and spoke in a loud voice: “Everybody please move back and
clear a circle.”

The crowd of spectators reluctantly backed
up, leaving an empty circular area in the middle of the room. As
the Seconds for the duel, Lord Tysol’s guard captain and Lord Trask
met with Lord Brik in the middle of the circle to confirm the rules
of the engagement.

Then Lord Brik again spoke to the crowd:
“This duel is to be fought with the traditional rules; each
combatant is allowed one sword and no other weapons. I will call it
finished when either man is incapacitated beyond the ability to
fight or when either man begs mercy and accepts that he was wrong,
and so apologizes, or when either is dead.”

Lord Brik turned first to Jatar and said
formally, “Do you, Lord Jatar Ardellen of Lindankar, swear to fight
within the rules of the engagement as stated, with no tricks, lies,
magic, or weapons other than your sword?”

“Yes, I so swear,” Jatar replied with his
eyes locked on Tysol’s.

Lord Brik faced Tysol and repeated his
question.

Elizabeth read Tysol’s aura as he answered
and she noted immediately that he was extremely agitated; his aura
flickered and wavered wildly, with lots of red and yellow peaks to
the outside. The elevated levels of courage were gone and she could
read his immediate surface thoughts, he was wondering,
Where is
he?

Where is who?
Thought Elizabeth,
The Tchulian?
She said
nothing
because she saw no signs of treachery as he
answered Lord Brik’s question.

“I also swear,” Lord Tysol replied.

Lord Brik continued: “If one of you should
die, may G’lan protect your soul from destruction.” Then he backed
away leaving them standing alone in the circle and said, “Let the
duel begin.”