Cathexis: Necromancer's Dagger (21 page)

Major Von Dracek was livid. He paced up and
down by Mauklar’s mortally wounded body occasionally kicking him as
he passed to punctuate each sentence. Mauklar had stopped moaning
after about the fourth kick, the pain had shocked him into
unconsciousness.

“Vorg take you all! I want to know who let
that bastard get through to the horses, it was only one man, there
are eleven,” he paused long enough to kick Mauklar again, “make
that ten of you brave, tough, mean and girlish simpletons!” He
kicked the body at his feet again, then he continued to rant and
pace. “I’d make you carry me to Lindankar on your filthy backs if I
wasn’t too embarrassed to return!” He gave the still body of
Mauklar another boot and then added, “Big tough Tchulian soldiers,
the best in the world, soldiers who can’t even stop one man from
taking your horses, let alone a Kirnath sorceress!”

Mauklar, who was now dead, received one last
kick as Von Dracek finally walked away from his cowering men. Just
as they started to relax he suddenly turned and spoke again, the
men jumped, having thought he was finished. “Make camp here,
obviously,
we aren’t going
anywhere for a few days,” then he turned his back and walked away,
still fuming.

Bante waited what he considered a sufficient
time for his commander to cool down before approaching the major to
say, “We have a horse, Sir.”

Von Dracek looked up from the log on which
he sat and frowned up at Bante.

“Oh, did our quarry feel sorry for us and
drop one by?”

“No sir, it was one of that knight’s two
spare mounts, it wasn’t hurt badly when it fell, perhaps a few
bruises. Did you wish to take the horse and follow them alone?”

“Of course not, but I will use it to go for
more competent help. Where is the beast?”

“The men have it over there,” Bante said
gesturing with his hand toward a nearby stream. “What should we do
in the
meantime
, Sir?”

“Have you considered suicide?” the major
asked viciously.

“No, sir,” the corporal replied quietly.

“Maybe you should, you let your men be
ambushed and killed, and then ran like a coward, and now you have
let our quarry escape with our horses. If by some chance you don’t
decide to kill yourself, then, start walking,” he commanded.

“Should we follow the sorceress?”

Von Dracek closed his eyes as if counting to
ten before he said, “No, you imbecile, do you think that if they
can wipe out a mounted group of our soldiers without losing a
single man, that they can’t do it again when the men are on foot?
Bante,
pretend
not to be the fool
you actually are, it would be such a pleasant change. Head back to
the city, I will send new mounts for you and the men, it wouldn’t
do for the citizenry of Lindankar to see ten Tchulian mercs
returning from being whipped like common
weffs
by three boys, a woman and a child. May Vorg defile
our souls if the story ever gets out that they killed ten Tchulians
before making fools of the rest. Try not to get lost or fall in any
holes on your way back, understand, imbecile?”

“Yes sir,” replied Bante in a tightly
controlled voice. He was fuming inside at having to take the
insults Von Dracek was dealing out, but he feared the man too much
to show his anger, so he just took the abuse and dreamed of the day
he would kill his commander, slowly.

Von Dracek watched his corporal’s eyes
carefully as he responded to make sure the proper fear was still
keeping him in line. After a moment of study he was satisfied, so
he added in a more calm voice, “Now, fetch me that nag. I can’t
wait to degrade myself before that slimy necromancer. I’ll have to
tell him about the awesome exploits of the crack Tchulian soldiers
I recommended we send to kill a woman!”

The corporal happily left his angry
commander to go and order the horse made ready.

Meanwhile, Von Dracek was thinking,
If
only I could choose the men who become officers, but I have to take
imbeciles like Bante just because they have the auras necessary to
learn the art, it’s a sad world.

“I knew I shouldn’t have let that corporal
get away,” Drake said wistfully. The sorry looking group was
walking their horses along the forest. They were hoping that Hetark
would catch up to them, but with each passing
moment,
that hope dwindled.

Gustin looked at the hunched over
body
of Elizabeth who rode with
both hands clenched around the saddle horn to keep herself from
falling. Then he spoke softly to Drake, “Who would have thought
that the corporal would double around us and meet up with his
commander in time to warn him and set up that ambush?”

“He is
half
rodent, or more than half, he must have ridden through the
bush.”

“Well, I think I owe the rodent for this,”
Gustin said, pointing to the crossbow bolt which projected from his
thigh. He had a piece of cloth tied around it to slow the bleeding,
there had not yet been time to attempt any further medical aid.

Drake nudged his horse until it moved up
next to Elizabeth’s mount and then he said, “Milady, what’s the
matter, are you wounded?”

Looking up tiredly Elizabeth gave the
concerned young knight a wan smile through the strands of hair that
hung down around her weary face and her answer came in a whisper.
“I am indeed injured, but not in the physical sense. We suspected,
but weren’t sure that the Tchulians had sorcerers with enough
training and power to deliver that strong an attack. If I had been
ready for it I could have defeated it without damage, but I wasn’t
and it caught me at a bad time. I'm sure he planned it that way, he
meant to destroy my aura and kill me, and he nearly succeeded, I
barely managed to get control of myself and destroy the attacking
energy. He lost a lot of power in that attack, but I damaged my
spirit and that is much worse than just losing aura power,” she
explained.

“What does it mean when you say your spirit
was damaged, is there something we can do to heal it?” the small
knight asked hopefully.

“No, it’s something only time can heal.
Think of it as a wine skin, it’s easy to replenish the wine when it
was used up, but if the sack itself is damaged it must be glued and
mended
before it will hold the
wine again,” she said to explain in terms he would understand.

“Can you use any of your powers before it is
healed?” asked the concerned Drake.

“Yes, but every use of power diminishes my
reservoir and what is used will not come back swiftly until my
spirit heals,” was her bleak response.

Gustin spoke in a sharp tone, “Quiet, I
think I hear horses. Yes, we must run, milady; there are many
horses coming, ride swiftly, ride!”

They urged their horses into a gallop.
Gustin looked back for signs of pursuit and spotted a single rider
coming around the bend. He swayed wildly in the saddle and then
suddenly tumbled off his horse to fall on the ground. Gustin reined
in and watched as a large group of riderless horses appeared around
the bend.

“It’s Hetark!” Gustin called loudly to Drake
and Elizabeth.

Drake heard him and galloped forward until
he could lean down and grab the reins of Elizabeth’s horse and
bring it to a halt.

Gustin swiftly rode back to the fallen body
of Hetark. When he arrived he dismounted without regard for the
pain in his wounded leg. He knelt by the fallen knight where he lay
on his back covered in
dirt, caked
with dried blood. Gustin propped him up and gave him a drink from
his belt skin. After a
moment,
Hetark cracked his eyes open slightly and managed a bit of a smile
in thanks to the big man. “Have I taken the River to heaven?” he
jokingly asked with a croaking voice.

“No, my friend,” Gustin responded quietly,
“you have a few things yet to do in this world before you ride the
River; besides, I’m too ugly to be your Greeter.”

Hetark looked back at the pack of horses
that had come to a stop a few yards away. “I brought you a new
horse.”

“I can see that Hetark, quite a few,
actually. How did you ever manage that?” Gustin asked with a gentle
voice and a simple smile.

“I got a good deal; all I had to trade them
was one healthy Knight Protector for a half dead one and the
horses. It seemed like a bargain at the time,” the wounded knight
explained.

Drake and Elizabeth arrived and dismounted,
Elizabeth immediately knelt by the fallen knight. “Is being
mortally wounded becoming a habit, Hetark?” She asked, but she
smiled at him to take the sting out of her words.

He looked up at her and replied in a weak
deadpan
voice, “I’m not positive,
but I think someone may be trying to kill me, can you imagine
that?”

“They’re probably after you for assaulting
your poor friends with your odd sense of humor,” answered Drake
from where he stood nearby.

Elizabeth rubbed her forehead with the
fingers of her right hand and tried to concentrate on focusing her
weak powers to heal the wounded aura of the knight. She was so
tired and weak that she could not get herself into that calm center
she needed to project her aura and heal. Reverting to her earliest
classes in healing at the Kirnath School, Elizabeth began to use
the words that she had not needed in years to focus her power. In a
soft chanting
voice,
Elizabeth
spoke a few words that were strange to the ears of the knights,

“
Aleir
nu
sien
, E’ dir
lih
brees
.

Aleir
nu
sien
, E’ dir
lih
brees
.

Aleir
nu
sien
, E’ dir
lih
brees, A’
Terelat
.”

As she finished her chant she took hold of
Hetark’s shoulder gently, sweat began to seep from the pores of her
face as she concentrated with her eyes closed and then spoke
softly, “Drake, pull the bolt from his shoulder, slowly.”

Drake reached over and gently pulled on the
barbed bolt. He expected resistance as the barbs dug into Hetark’s
flesh, but the bolt came out easily as if the tissues were moving
out of the way. When the end of the bolt came out of Hetark’s
shoulder Drake saw the wound quickly seal over and then heal.

Without breaking her concentration Elizabeth
moved her hand over to Gustin’s leg and a moment later she
instructed Drake to pull the bolt from his leg the same way.

When he was healed she opened her tired
eyes, but when Hetark started to speak she held one of her slim
fingers to his lips to quiet him, and then asked in a barely
audible voice, “You managed to take all of their horses?”

He nodded.

“Thank you, Hetark,” she whispered, her
strength weakening, “this means that they can’t catch us for a few
bells.” She turned to Drake and said, “I must rest, will you please
watch over Michael?”

He nodded and with the last of her strength
Elizabeth handed the young heir to the small knight, but when she
tried to stand her body finally gave up and the world went dark as
she lost consciousness. Gustin caught her before she could hit the
ground and the three knights shared a look of woe at the sight of
her unconscious body.

Gustin carefully lifted her up and cradled
her against his huge chest and then carried her off the road
towards a shady glen. Once there he gently lay her down in the soft
pine needles. He sat down beside the unconscious lady and placed
her tired head
on
the pillow of
his lap.

It was dusk, so Drake began building a fire
nearby while Hetark worked on picketing the horses. Gustin pulled
his sword out and lay it near his reach. He prepared himself to
stay awake and guard their courageous lady until she woke refreshed
or he died of old age.

Two nobles sat together in a private room
within the Lindankar palace. One of the two men had made sure no
one else was around or had seen them enter.

They were sharing a bottle of dark red wine
poured into slender elegant glasses; a loaf of thick crusted bread
and a crock of, butter were also on the table.

Confident that they were alone one noble
held his glass up to the light while gazing into the depths of the
wine; the beam of sunlight from the single window reflected
blood-red
bands of light across
his face.

He smiled and spoke again to the man in the
other seat, “So
Armal
, you really
think that Olsk is in for a good period of prosperity with the new
trade agreements you and Jatar have arranged?” As he spoke he took
out a dagger and cut himself a piece of the bread.

“Of course, but hasn’t your country been
prospering under the increased trade for years now?” the ruler of
Olsk asked in return.

The other noble finished eating his bite of
bread before answering, “Indeed, but on the other
hand,
the
Prutians
have been a thorn in our side for quite a while.
I think it’s about time that our allied countries get together and
bring Pruta to its knees. United we have the strength to annex
their whole country while only taking acceptable losses to our
armies.”

An absolutely incredulous look came over
Lord
Armal’s
face as he stared in
shock at the other noble who was calmly sipping his wine after his
bold statements on declaring war. Lord Armal gaped with his mouth
open for a moment before finally finding words, “You must be
joking.
Pruta
isn’t our enemy, or
Lindankar’s, and until this moment I had no idea that you held any
anger toward that country. What makes you think that I, or Jatar,
will even consider joining you in an attack on an ally that has
given us no provocation?” Lord Armal exclaimed, and then watched
the straight face of the man sitting across from him as he waited
for a response.