Cathexis: Necromancer's Dagger (8 page)

A moment later Elizabeth came up for air and
said, “I pronounce the patient healed.”

“Now I do think I remember something you
said earlier about ruffled clothing later in the evening?” Jatar
noted with a sly smile.

“Now wherever did you hear me say that?
Besides, I’m sure you’re too tired from your duel and need your bed
rest, don’t you, milord?” asked Elizabeth with a cute little smile
and a provocative wiggle.

“I agree with you, bed is where we shall
retire, though I doubt I will be asleep immediately.” The
completely healed Lord Jatar picked up his wife and carried her to
their sleeping chamber.

The morning of Michael’s first birth
celebration arrived with bright sunshine through the window of Lord
and Lady Ardellen’s sleeping chamber. Jatar opened sleep encrusted
eyes to see dust motes dancing in a beam of early morning sunlight.
The empty rumpled white linens next to him were evidence of his
wife’s recent occupation.

Elizabeth’s melodic voice spoke from across
the room, “Good, you’re awake. I was just about to get you up
anyway.”

“
Vorg’s
breath, you can’t hide anything from a sorceress! What did you do,
see my aura change when I woke up?” Jatar exclaimed petulantly, his
hair sticking out in all directions.

“My, aren’t we grumpy this morning. And no,
I didn’t watch your aura, you simply stopped snoring.”

“I don’t snore.”

“Yes you do; and how would you know anyway,
you were asleep!” she argued logically.

Jatar held up one hand with three fingers
extended and counted them off. “I forgot the three most important
rules; never argue with a woman, certainly not with your wife and
most especially never argue with a sorceress. G’lan help me, you’re
all three!” Jatar groaned and pulled the covers over his head.

Elizabeth picked up their son and turned him
so that his small face pointed toward the bed. “Look, see that lump
in the bed? That’s your lazy father who won’t even get up to wish
you a joyous first year of birth.”

Jatar surfaced from the covers like a
breaching whale, which sent the covers off the bed while he bounced
up onto his knees. “That’s right, today is Michael’s birth
celebration; we must make ready for the ceremony!”

Elizabeth smiled warmly at the disheveled
apparition kneeling on their bed, happy that her ploy had worked so
well. Jatar’s back was to the bright sunshine and from Elizabeth’s
position his features were obscured by darkness. Her smile slipped
into worry and a matching shadow crept over her soul, but then
Jatar moved and his smiling face returned to sight.

“Let me hold my son!” he exclaimed.

Elizabeth smiled again and handed Michael
into her husband’s waiting arms. The sorceress wondered why she was
worried since the immediate threat from Tysol was over. She decided
to try and enjoy the festivities of the day and set aside her
worries for another time.

Elizabeth smiled slightly as she watched her
husband and their son; it always amazed her how a man who could
fight to the death in a sword duel, or negotiate sternly with other
kingdoms, could then hold his baby son so gently and lovingly.
Elizabeth realized that she was in love with him as much now as she
was when they had married six years ago, perhaps even more so.

Jatar cradled his son in his strong arms and
looked down into the boy’s face. “Today is your day, son. Before it
is over I will affirm you as heir to my throne!”

The three conspirators were gathered in a
room within the Ardellen palace in Lindankar. The necromancer was
still under the influence of the tatrin pollen. He sat unmoving in
a
chair
while staring off into
nothing. The Tchulian mercenary Major Harland Von Dracek sat at the
nearby table conversing with a nobleman, the third conspirator of
their group. That man gestured toward CAracusS by waving an arm
wearing an embroidered sleeve with lace trim.

“So Major, you had no trouble sneaking
CAracusS and his victim into the palace?”

“One of Jatar’s guards actually helped us
carry the man in after I explained that he was drunk from
celebrating; it was almost too easy,” Von Dracek reported.

“That’s because the duel between Tysol and
Jatar was a spectacular diversion. Congratulations are in order
Major; it’s just too bad you didn’t get to watch after all the time
you spent preparing Tysol for his performance. Elizabeth’s
attention was riveted on Jatar when Tysol surprised almost everyone
by pulling a concealed dagger. I had to contain myself lest I laugh
out loud when I saw Tysol stab him, it was wonderful. That
lout
is such a good puppet, I only
regret that I didn’t get to see Jatar kill him, it would have
brought tears of joy to my eyes,” he raised a lace cuffed sleeve
and used his forefinger to wipe away an imaginary tear as he
reminisced with glee.

Von Dracek looked at him sternly as he said,
“Weren’t you worried that Jatar was mortally wounded? Tysol could
have killed him, and that wasn’t supposed to happen. His death
would have put a serious crimp in our plan!”

The nobleman took no notice of the Tchulian
merc’s tone. “Oh by
G’lan’s
enormous nose, I could see instantly that he was not so seriously
wounded that he would die, it just added to the whole drama of the
hilarious affair! I would pay to see him stabbed again, what fun!”
the man exclaimed. "He was in little danger, with his wife watching
over him there was more than simple fate at work. It would have
taken a miracle of
chance
for that
dagger to strike that ring.”

“To business!” the mercenary major
exclaimed, “Are you sure that Jatar will not ignore the message and
go with his wife to the church anyway?”

The nobleman shrugged as he answered, “As
sure as anything is with something as complicated as this plot, but
some chances have to be taken. Don’t worry, I’ll do my best to make
sure that doesn’t happen,” he said with a casual flip of his hand
as if to wave aside the worries.

“I don’t like leaving anything to chance,
but it’s too late at this point to change anything. I’ll begin
awakening the necromancer so that he will be fully recovered soon
after Lady Ardellen’s departure,” the Tchulian decided.

“Then I’ll make my departure, I find
CAracusS a bit of a bore really,” he said, knowing that the
necromancer could hear him, but not yet respond. “Well I must get
back to the fun, acting is such an underrated endeavor, and I find
myself becoming quite the master over the years. Now I’m on to my
next performance in the Great Hall!”

Von Dracek frowned as he watched the pompous
noble leave; the man was starting to seriously annoy the sardonic
Tchulian merc, he was taking far too much pleasure in this
business. To the Major this was serious, something he had worked
toward for many years. He didn’t enjoy what they had to do to
Jatar, or the child, but some things had to be done to achieve
important goals, and the destruction of the Kirnath was a goal that
drove Von Dracek’s every waking moment.

The great assembly hall in the palace of
Lindankar was filled to overflowing. Most of those assembled were
high ranking nobles here to witness the confirmation of their
future sovereign in this ancient ceremony of their land. Jatar and
Elizabeth sat on two throne chairs that were placed on a raised
dais at one end of the spacious hall. Michael's crib was placed on
the right side of the ruler's thrones where Elizabeth could keep an
eye on their son. The future heir was sitting up and looking out at
the many faces of the watching crowd with the carefree attitude of
a one-year-old.

As per custom, the Captain of the palace
guards came forth and knelt before the thrones. Captain
Fintok
had been Jatar’s Knight Protector
since he was designated heir to the throne at Jatar’s first birth
celebration many years ago.

“Captain
Fintok
,” Jatar began, “have you found six men you deem
worthy to be honored with the post of Michael’s Knight
Protector?”

“I have milord,” captain
Fintok
answered.

“Bring them forth.”

Getting to his feet Jatar’s old Knight
Protector marched to the side of the hall where six young men in
shining light chain mail stood at attention.

The captain gave a crisp command and the six
men followed him out before the thrones. At the captain’s hand
signal the men turned in perfect precision, and dropped to one
knee, facing their Lord and Lady. The captain remained standing to
the side. “I present the six candidates that have proven themselves
in the Great Trial, milord.”

Captain
Fintok
gestured to each as he spoke their name. “This is
Hetark
, son of the late Captain
Halson Deverin of the Lindankar guard. The next man is Gustin, son
of Yul Hearthforge from Lashbrook in the northern mountains. You
already know Becaris, son of Sir Gregory Betherferd from Alaspern
province. The man next to him is Drake, son of Denton Rider the
Head Forester from Royal Oak. The final two are the twins,
Rasal,
and Lasar, sons of Stark
LeKevern from Lindankar. After years of constant practice and
rigorous training, and then six months of fierce competition and
grueling tests, these six candidates were chosen out of the
hundreds who competed for this honor as the strongest, fastest,
smartest, bravest, most skilled and truest men in the kingdom. I
recommend any one of them without reserve to be knighted and
assigned as the personal guard of your son and heir, Michael
Ardellen.”

Jatar and Elizabeth stood and walked forward
to the first knight kneeling in the line. He was a few years older
than the five other young men. Hetark was of average height with
short blond hair and a light beard that hugged his face like a
carpet; Jatar sized him up and liked what he saw. “Hetark, what is
the most important duty of a knight?”

“To serve and protect their Lord,” he
answered immediately.

“And in what ways would you serve and
protect Michael?”

“With all my love, strength, skill, wisdom,
experience and life, milord,” answered the calm and thoughtful
man.

Elizabeth watched his aura colors and got
the impression of a man well endowed with the self-assurance that
comes from repeated testing and success.

Jatar stepped down to the next candidate
in
line and found a huge man with
midnight black hair and a clean-shaven face. Jatar gazed at the
large boned features of this man’s face and thought he could see a
surprisingly compassionate look behind the tough exterior. “Gustin,
if an assassin threw a knife at your charge, what would you
do?”

“I would step in front of the thrown knife
and then kill the assassin,” replied the large man without
hesitation and nodded his head
once
as if to confirm his answer beyond dispute.

“But how would you kill him with a knife in
you?” Jatar wondered.

“I would manage, milord,” the big man
replied and looked right into Jatar’s eyes with the conviction of a
man who knows his own capabilities.

Jatar spoke low to Elizabeth as he stepped
down the line, “You know I believe he would.”

The next man was of above average height and
weight, yet he still looked small in comparison to Gustin who knelt
to his left. He had long flowing brown hair that hung down a hand’s
length past his collar. Even as he knelt he held himself with
formal dignity. His body and clothes were groomed to perfection. A
family crest adorned the left breast of his dark blue velvet
doublet, which proclaimed him a son from one of the most prominent
noble houses in Lindankar. Jatar knew him well and asked him,
“Becaris you come from a noble house with all the birthright of the
firstborn
. Why do you wish to give
it up and become the Knight Protector?”

“I am Michael's man; I’ve known that since
your son was born. With honor, duty and life, I know I must protect
the heir to the throne. I don't know what it is, but I have
something important to accomplish in the service of your son. My
father and I have spoken, so when I expressed my true feeling he
agreed that this was the best course
for
my life to take. I have relinquished claim to my
family title, passing the honor of first born to my younger
brother.”

“And what if you are not chosen?” asked
Jatar.

“Then I will find another way to serve
Michael. In any event, I will not take back what I have given to my
brother.” the young man proclaimed proudly.

Jatar stepped to the next candidate and
found the opposite of the huge Gustin. The young man before him was
small; the word 'compact' came to Jatar’s mind. He was finely
muscled to the point where each cord was clearly defined beneath
the skin. Jatar had the impression that the young man achieved
maximum use from every attribute that he had been blessed with from
birth. The oval face was framed by
light
brown hair and he sported a drooping mustache that
added to the slightly mischievous look on his young calculating
face. He looked Jatar in the eye as if to say, `ask me your worst;
I’m ready for anything,’ so Jatar decided to oblige the small
man.

“Drake, if Michael was in danger and ordered
you to go somewhere, therefore putting him in greater danger, what
would you do?”

“I would try and reason with him milord, and
failing that, I would remain to protect him anyway,” he
answered.

“So you would disobey his direct order even
though you could be found guilty of treason later and put to
death?”

The young man answered without hesitation,
“If the amount of danger warranted the action, yes, milord.”

Jatar nodded, liking the answer, then
continued down the line to the final two men. Looking at them was
like looking at a double image, they were identical twins, both
with long black hair that served to frame striking steel gray eyes.
They were of average height, though their arms showed the heavy
musculature of extraordinary upper body strength.