Fool's Errand (30 page)

“I know my job, Mystic, you just do yours. There is one more thing you need to know.”

“Which isss?”

“There is a Parynlander who looks like he will be part of whatever force goes west. A paladin captain who led one fo the patrols, he will be no small amount of trouble. They seem like a capable bunch. Of course, I still have my two little surprises as well. I will make sure I am in charge of the food and entertainment on whatever assembly that simpleton mayor puts together.”

“Very well. I leave thisss in your capable handsss.”

Deeper shadows shred the vision before Melizar’s eyes. The screams and growls are much closer now. There is no glowing light, no feeling of peaceful drifting. The spirits coming for the Cyrian swirl into vision now. They are not the peaceful
Meorah
coming to separate Garan’s consciousness from his body. They are something else.

Melizar had heard of these things. These are the
Tsalmareth,
the death shadows. Tales told of these fearsome servants of the Ayabim
,
but Melizar had never encountered them before. He knew he needed to break the spell at once or risk being torn from the world of the living himself when these hellish spirits whisked away whatever remained of Xyer Garan from this world.

The shadowy spirits were all around Garan’s consciousness now. They shredded it to pieces as they ripped it from Melizar’s grasp. He felt them to claw, clutch, and rend his own mind, seeking to slay him where he sat, or possibly, to carry his mind off to wherever they took Garan. The D’zarik
chats-enash
exerted every ounce of will he could summon, and with a shriek, he broke his mind free from the soul-see spell.

Gideon, Thatcher, and Goldain all stared in amazement as their mage companion, who had been sitting on Garan’s chest with his bluish-black fingers invading every one of Garan’s cranial orifices, swayed and chanted some form of
kashaph,
which they had not seen before. They watched as, without warning, a terrifying scream erupted from Melizar. The mage pulled his hands away from Garan’s head as though he had grabbed a burning furnace. Melizar ripped himself away from the dead Cyrian and fell prone, lying on his back on the ground and moaning as though he had eaten another few bowls of Cookie’s deer soup.

Gideon shook his head and pinched his own cheeks in an attempt to verify that he was truly awake and not just dreaming in a wounded stupor. Goldain spoke to the young rogue.

“Hey, kid, there is not a lot I can do for the mage, but the troops running down the straggling gobblers could use my help.”

Without another word, the northerner took off in the direction of the southern ramp at a dead run with a gleeful look of eagerness for more battle shining in his eyes.

“Captain,” Thatcher said. “Will you be all right if I go check on Melizar?”

“Yes,” Gideon answered weakly. “The ambush is broken and the enemy in flight. See to our mage.”

Thatcher ran to where Melizar lay groaning. He couldn’t see Melizar’s eyes beneath his hood, but the way he twitched and pulled away at Thatcher’s touch, the rogue could tell that his friend was terrified. Thatcher grasped the strangely dark colored hands of the mage and whispered comfort to him.

“Mel, it is okay. You are safe now. What in the world was that spell, and what are you so afraid of?”

Melizar clambered back from the edge of terror into fullness of reality. In truth, he had no idea why he was so afraid. He had used the soul-see spell at least half a dozen times before. It had never been like that. What was different?

The soul-see spell only worked on human races or
chats-enash
. During his time in school, he had used it on four Adami slaves and one Mitsar his mage master killed and provided to the
kashaph
students to give them practice using the spell.

The one other time was on a V’rassi
chats-enash
who had gotten a little too curious about Melizar’s identity in the dark streets of Aton-Ri. He had used the spell to find out how much the half-blood knew about him and why he was followed. Never before had the spell gone anything like this.

Suddenly, a realization dawned on Melizar as to what might be the difference. Each of the lab rats had been followers of the One Lord and had prayed to Him before they were killed. The V’rassi were servants of the Malakim,
so likely the
chats-enash
he had killed was also. Based on Garan’s actions and betrayal, however, he was not of the same personality and caliber of Duncan and Gideon.

Was Garan a servant of the Ayabim? Quite likely
.

So perhaps the dark spirits that served them, the
Tsalmaveth,
were truly what Melizar had encountered during the bond? That suddenly seemed an intriguing but very reasonable explanation.

If that were the case, however, then Melizar’s skepticism about some form of eternal existence might very well be in error. He had once before tried the soul-see spell on a full D’zarik, despite his mentor assuring him it only worked on humans and half-bloods. When his uncle had died, Melizar eagerly experimented with the spell but was unable to form any bond. Back then this was only the second time he had attempted the spell, so he assumed he had done something wrong in the casting, thus preventing the link from forming. Now he was not so sure.

What if the ancient writings were true? What if the stories of the great battle were not just the stuff of myths and legends?

He knew Lord Yolodyr believed, but Melizar was convinced of their city leader’s insanity long ago. Gideon certainly seemed to believe it. Melizar’s new companion and captain seemed neither insane nor stupid. Anyway, sitting here and speculating wasn’t going to yield any answers. He would definitely need to investigate further and find his answers, but in the meantime, he had some information needed by his companions—information that there were three traitors, not just two.

Oh, what pain I will inflict when I get my hands on that bard. My hands!

The warmth of Thatcher’s hand upon his brought his exposure to sudden reality. He had to take off his gloves to form the bond with the Cyrian, but now at least the young thief whose crossbow had saved his life but a short time ago had seen his skin.

How many others had seen? Could he contain the information with the young thief? Melizar wasted no time. As casually as he could, he located his gloves and quickly slipped them on his hands.

“Thank you, Thatcher. I also thank you for saving my life earlier.”

He looked at the young thief, who didn’t appear overly concerned as his skin tone. Just to be safe, perhaps an appeal to the youngster’s interests might help build some loyalty Melizar could capitalize on later.

“So, young Thatcher, please allow me to repay you for the kindness you have done me this day. You mentioned to me once that you liked magical toys. Well, I have one that has been in our family for generations. I have no need for it, but someone in your, uh, profession might find it very useful.”

With that, Melizar pulled a tiny patch of black leather, with a loop of leather string connected to two sides, out of a small coin purse on his belt. He handed this to Thatcher.

Thatcher stared at the small black leather eye patch that Melizar had just handed to him, clearly not understanding the significance or value of the gift

“Uh, thanks. It’s just what I always needed: an eye patch.”

“Ah, now, young rogue,” Melizar replied, “I already told you this is no simple eye patch. It is a magical toy of no small ability. I have spells to duplicate what this patch can do, which is why I no longer need it.”

“A magical eye patch?”

“Indeed.” Melizar chuckled. “You see, when you wear this particular patch, you can still see from both your eyes even through what appears to be solid leather. Not only will you see normally, you will see much more than anyone else. When you wear this patch, your covered eye will detect all metal items shining with a silvery sheen, even those not normally visible. You will see a person’s coins, hidden weapons, or any other metal in range. In addition to that, anything on that person that is magical in nature will have a bright blue aura around it. Try it out. You already know about the dimensional pocket I carry in my pack, but I will tell you my belt pouch is magical also. Go ahead, put it on.”

The rogue’s awkward indifference to the gift transformed into a grin of ecstatic delight as he put on the eye patch.

“I see the coins in your purse, your dagger, and the bits and bobbles of jewelry beneath your robes glowing with a silvery light. This is amazing.”

“The gifts of mages often are.”

“And just as you said, there is a small, glowing bit of blue hidden your backpack, as well as surrounding your belt pouch. I-I do not know how to thank you for such a gift. I can’t wait to show the others.”

“Ahh, but, my young rogue, such a gift loses its usefulness once it is known, right? Keep what this patch can do to yourself. It will be our little secret. After all, good friends guard well each other’s secrets. Am I right?”

The inference was unmistakable, and the implications were not lost on the quick-witted thief.

“So this isn’t just for saving your life, is it?”

“Isn’t it?”

It was clear that the implications of what was expected was not lost on the quick-witted youth. Now was the moment of truth. Would the boy take the bait, or would Melizar be forced to figure a way to kill the lad to keep his secret?

“I see what you mean. Don’t worry, Melizar, as far as I am concerned, your secret is well in
hand
.”

With the stress on this last word, they both knew they were on the same page. Melizar did not want to press the issue too hotly right now. He would look for time later to inquire of Thatcher if anyone else had seen anything.

As soon as the rogue had gone to see about Melizar, Duncan came trotting back to Gideon. The Durgak priest was winded from his runs up and down the battlefield and his defense of Kylor from the Orcs.

“How you feeling, Captain?” He inquired.

Gideon certainly seemed to be getting his second wind.

“Right as rain, my friend, thanks to you.”