Alutar: The Great Demon (71 page)

“What is that?” asked Jong. “Surely, it is not natural. The sky is clear.”

“It is quite distant,” frowned Seiko. “Perhaps the sky is not clear there.”

“If it is that far away,” retorted Jong, “it must have been a massive release of energy, or we would not be able to see it. It might be magical.”

“There is truth in your words,” agreed Seiko as he focused on a red hue gathering on the horizon, “but I detected no vibrations.”

Moments later, both black-cloaks saw the red sands approaching.

“Sandstorm?” Jong asked in alarm.

Seiko did not answer as the red sands spread past them. He frowned and shook his head.

“The red sands are not moving past us,” he said with wonder. “What is moving past us is the changing nature of the sand itself. Get me a bucket of it.”

Jong moved quickly to procure a bucket and rope. Seiko waited patiently as he stared at the blood red sand around the ship. When Jong returned with a bucket of sand, Seiko cast a spell on the particles. He frowned in confusion.

“The sand particles are enhanced with magic,” he declared, “but it is a magic that I have never encountered before, and that troubles me.”

“Do you think it is Alutar easing our way?” asked Jong.

Seiko frowned. “I do not know what the Great Demon is capable of knowing,” he said. “I suppose he might be knowledgeable about our location, but I have never mentioned traversing the desert as an option to anyone. It is something that I just realized as an option days ago.”

Seiko saw Jong frown deeply with his eyes staring past the black-cloak leader. Seiko turned around to see what had caught Jong’s attention. One hundred paces behind the Resurgence was a small wall of red sand. He stared at it with a puzzled expression.

“You might be wrong about the sands not moving past us,” Jong said softly. “That disturbance was not caused by the ship. Look how it extends away to the horizons on each side of us.”

“I am not wrong,” retorted Seiko. “The sand suddenly became red. It was not red sand covering the desert sand. I am sure of that.”

“Then what is causing that disturbance?” asked Jong. “It is not caused by the gathering of wind to fill the sails.”

“No, it isn’t,” Seiko agreed anxiously.

Seiko walked to the stern rail and threw a fireball at the small wall of sand. Nothing happened. The fireball seemed to pass right through the wall, although it was hard to tell. Next he tried a freeze ball. The magical projectile should have frozen the moving sand particles in place, but that is not what happened. The spell acted as if it would work, as ice began to form, but the forming ice was blasted away by other particles of sand. The spell really had no effect.

“That is strange,” remarked Jong who was standing alongside Seiko.

“Perhaps,” mused Seiko, “although I suppose a sandstorm could destroy ice rather easily. Get me one of the sounding lines the sailors use to check the depth. Make sure that there is enough line attached to reach that wall of sand.”

Seiko waited while Jong procured the sounding line. He stared at the wall of sand and suddenly rubbed his eyes. He glanced again, and he now was sure that the wall was growing taller.

“It is getting closer to us,” Jong remarked as he handed the sounding line to Seiko.

“I don’t think so,” Seiko answered as he lowered the plummet over the stern rail. “I think it is growing taller,” he said as he started feeding out line to let the plummet get closer to the wall.

Seiko fed the line out slowly and methodically. As the plummet came close to the wall, he held the line more firmly, anticipating that the swiftly moving sand might kick the plummet away. That is not what happened. As he stared at the distant plummet, he frowned. It appeared to be entering the wall of sand without being moved to one side or the other.

“I wonder if it is an illusion,” Seiko mused aloud. “The wall of sand is not affecting it.”

Seiko started reeling in the plummet while his mind pondered the mystery of the red sand and the illusion. He knew that the red sand was magical in nature, and it was a magic beyond his comprehension. His thoughts turned to the illusion as he subconsciously reeled in the plummet. An illusion of a simple moving sand wall would be child’s play, but the extent of the illusion was impressive, and that placed it in a far different category. He was still deep in his mental musings when he heard Jong gasp. He turned to look at the other black-cloak and saw him looking down from the stern rail. Seiko followed his gaze and froze. The plummet that he was reeling in was half gone. He quickly resumed reeling in the line and brought the plummet up to the rail. He stared at the metal object with wonder. Half of the plummet was missing, and the very end of what remained looked as if it had been finely sanded and polished.

“What in the world happened to it?” Jong asked nervously.

Seiko felt a tremor of fear race up his spine. He ran a finger over the end of the plummet and felt its smooth finish. He tried to imagine the force it would take to destroy the tip of the plummet without causing it to be carried away in the direction of the moving sand. He shook his head with the failure to comprehend such a thing.

“I want two guards on this rail at all times,” Seiko ordered. I want a constant watch on the distance of that wall to our stern.”

“The men will not be able to see it at night,” warned Jong.

“Then they will have to get off the ship and walk behind it,” scowled Seiko. “I don’t care what it takes. If that wall starts gaining on us, I want to know about it immediately.”

“You think it will harm the ship?” asked Jong.

Seiko shook his head as if he were staring at an idiot. “It ate through the metal plummet,” he snapped. “Do you think it will have much trouble with the wood of this hull? That enhanced sand is moving so fast that it will eat through anything in its way. It is akin to a giant grindstone moving faster than any grindstone has ever moved before. It will destroy everything in its path. That includes this ship, you and me, and most importantly, I suspect it is purposely designed to eat through the demonstone. Alutar did not send this spell. I assume it is quite the opposite.”

“The Mage?” gasped Jong. “I thought he was dead.”

“The immortals cannot die,” scoffed Seiko. “Alutar must be warned. Send someone off to the Forest of Death immediately.”

Jong turned to leave, but Seiko’s hand shot out and grabbed the other black-cloak.

“Wait,” Seiko said softly. “It would not be wise to inform the others about what we know.”

Jong’s eyes widened in understanding, and he nodded exaggeratedly. “They would flee,” he said in a whisper.

Seiko nodded. “Select one man to carry a message to the Forest of Death and four men to keep watch on the wall. Tell them nothing. Send them back to speak to me, and I will give them their instructions.”

* * * *

Garth Shado entered another seedy tavern in Despair and purchased an ale with a mutilated coin. He glanced casually around the room, seemingly content to while away his time and sip his ale. Before he was done emptying the mug, a tall black-clad man entered the tavern. He also purchased an ale, but there was nothing unique about the coin he used to pay for it. A casual observer might have assumed that the man was nervous because his fingers constantly moved alongside his leg, but Garth knew otherwise. The nervous man was Ringo Forel, an Alcean Ranger, and the message he was sending Garth stated that all of the Badger shadows had been located. The Ranger quickly downed his ale and left the tavern. A few minutes later, Garth finished his ale and also left. Garth walked slowly through the streets of Despair until he reached the Emporium Inn. He took his time climbing the stairs to his room, and he didn’t bother to check the trap he had set on his door. He unlocked the door and walked into the darkness.

“And who is Garth Shado?” came a voice from the dark room.

“I am an intermediary,” Garth replied calmly. “Do you mind if we have some light?”

A click of fingers split the silence and a lantern flared to life. Garth saw one man sitting in a chair and the other standing near the lantern.

“I will ask again,” said the seated man. “Who is Garth Shado? You may answer while you remove your weapons and place them on the floor before approaching me.”

Garth nodded and closed the door. He began removing his weapons and placing them neatly on the floor.

“I am a special agent for Sidney Mercado,” Garth declared. “I was asked to make contact with you. Are you who I think you are?”

The seated Badger watched Garth pile up his weapons with interest. He waited until Garth was done before speaking.

“I am Franco,” the Badger announced as he waved for the other Badger to leave. “Come and sit on the couch. We have some business to discuss.”

As the second Badger left the room, Garth complied with Franco’s orders. He sat down on the couch facing the head assassin.

“Who is to be the target of the contract?” asked Franco.

“Grand General Kyrga,” answered Garth as he watched for a reaction.

A slight intake of breath told Garth all he needed to know. The contract would not be accepted.

“I believe that you have a sealed envelope for me,” stated Franco. “May I have it?”

“Will the contract be accepted?” asked Garth, making no move to hand over the envelope.

“Just hand me the envelope,” snapped Franco. “I do not have time for games.”

“A special agent learns to judge people quickly,” retorted Garth. “When I mentioned Kyrga’s name, you showed a certain familiarity with the target, a familiarity that might cause you to reject this contract. If that were so, I would be endangering the person who sent me by handing over the envelope. I ask you again, will the contract be accepted?”

Franco raised an eyebrow as he stared at the special agent. He had not realized that he had allowed his emotions to show.

“That is not for me to say,” Franco answered vaguely. “I will tell you that your fears are unfounded. Whether the contract is accepted or not, Kyrga will never learn of the identity of you or the client. To do so would bring ruin to the Badgers, and every one of us is sworn to avoid that. Give me the envelope or our business is concluded.”

Garth shrugged and handed the envelope to Franco. The Badger looked at the envelope and even though he was consciously trying to keep his emotions secret, he inhaled even sharper than before. The client was General Forshire. Franco remained silent as he tried to regain his composure.

“Where can General Forshire be found?” Franco eventually asked.

“Right here,” Clint replied from the corner of the room as Kalina dropped her illusion and sent a freeze ball hurtling towards the Badger.

Franco whipped his head around and stared at Clint just as the freeze ball struck. Kalina approached the chair, her fingers sparking with magic. She melted the ice from around the Badger’s mouth and brooch. Garth grabbed the brooch and held it before the Badger’s face. As he had done with the other Badgers, he tried to get Franco to tell him how to find Issa, but Franco resisted.

“Perhaps we should just let him go,” suggested Clint. “The embarrassment he has already brought to the Badgers will make him wish he was dead. He lost the emperor’s women. He lost fifty Badgers because he was careless. He never found the heir. He compromised the Black Citadel by hiding the women there, and now it no longer exists because of his stupidity. He has failed to find the women again, and now he has lost his team to the same general who has bested him at every turn. What do you think Issa will do to him?”

“So it was you,” Franco spat. “I knew it, but don’t get your hopes up. All Issa can do to me is kill me. No one will believe any stories you spread about the Badgers. You will only open yourselves up for revenge. The Badgers always win in the end.”

Garth sighed and looked at Kalina. She frowned and nodded. Her fingers sparked once more, and the ice on Franco’s head began to melt. With water pouring down the Badger’s face, Kalina placed her hands on Franco’s head. Franco’s eyes opened wide with fear, but the expression did not last long. After just a moment, the Badger’s eyes rolled up in his head. Garth and Clint stood around watching as Kalina closed her eyes and concentrated on the mind probe. After a few moments of inaction, Garth grew disinterested. He handed the brooch to Clint, walked to his pile of weapons, and began rearming. When he was done, he walked back towards the chair. Kalina opened her eyes and sighed.

“Did you find out how to find Issa?” Garth asked.

Kalina nodded. “I did,” she said, “but it was unnecessary. Franco knows the identity of the client. It is Lord Kommoron.”

“I remember him from the celebration,” Clint commented. “He is one of the nobles who hold title to the mines in the Badlands.”

“Are you sure?” Garth asked Kalina. “We cannot afford to make a mistake on this.”

“I am positive,” Kalina replied. “Franco was the one who accepted the contract. I even know how Franco gets around the security at the Sanctum to visit Lord Kommoron. There is no doubt in my mind because there was no doubt in his.”

“Then we all have a lot of work to do,” Garth stated.

* * * *

As the sun started climbing above the eastern horizon, Colonel Tamil of the 35
^th
Corps watched the gates of Valdo close after the last soldiers of the army had exited the city. He dallied for a while for the gates to reopen, but they never did. He frowned in confusion and spurred his horse southward to catch up to the vanguard heading to Despair. When he finally reached the vanguard, it was already over two leagues south of the city. He reined in next to General Kartacus.

“Something is amiss,” the colonel said. “The 16
^th
Corps is not following us. They closed the gates after the last of our men were out of the city.”

“I am not surprised,” shrugged the general. “General Somma is well known for his cowardice.”

“But we are supposed to be twenty thousand strong,” the colonel pointed out. “Those extra ten thousand men might make the difference when it comes to battle.”

General Kartacus sighed. “Tamil, you have a lot to learn. It will not require twenty thousand men to kill a handful of elves. Have you ever been to Elfwoods? I have, and the elves are not warriors. As soon as they see the 35
^th
Corps coming near, they will run as fast as their legs will carry them. Trust me. We are better off without the Spinoans.”