Cathexis: Necromancer's Dagger (51 page)

“You underestimated Hetark, it’s easy to do.
Come on, I think it’s time we ate,” and Elizabeth turned back
toward the camp and after a
moment,
Poison followed.

The next morning Poison watched Hetark from
the fallen log as he packed up the camp equipment. She watched the
way he cared for Elizabeth’s things, how he made sure she was
always comfortable, and the way his eyes followed her wherever she
went. A small smile of triumph marked her face.

When they were on their way again Hetark
took the lead while Elizabeth and Poison rode along behind. Poison
slowed the pace until they were out of the knight’s earshot. “Did
you know Hetark is in love with you?” She said abruptly to
Elizabeth. “That’s why he didn’t kiss me.”

Elizabeth considered her response for a
moment before answering. “I’m married, and Hetark is an honorable
man, he just cares for me as a good friend.”

“If you could see the way ‘e looks at you
when
yer
not
watch’in
, you would believe me,” Poison
replied.

“When two people go through as many
hardships as we’ve experienced together recently, a bond is forged;
that is the love you see. Hetark and I will never be more than best
friends,” Elizabeth answered.

“Then you are happy with yer husband and
will stay with him?” Poison asked.

“I love my husband dearly, but he and I can
no longer be together. He died a short time ago and in respect for
his memory I will take no other mate,” Elizabeth said softly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean te open healing
wounds, forgive me,” Poison apologized. They rode in silence for a
short time, both deep within their
thoughts
and then Poison asked, “
Ye’re
not a simple merchant’s wife, are you?”

“No,” Elizabeth replied and watched Poison
from the corner of her eyes.

“I feel like I’ve stepped into events beyond
my understand’in,” Poison stated, she looked at Hetark’s back ahead
of them, “and he’s a great knight, not a serving man.”

Elizabeth didn’t answer, she just watched
Poison’s sharp mind as her logical thoughts dropped into place.

“
Ye’re
learn’in
from me
fer
more than simple protection,
ye’re go
’in te fight.”

Still Elizabeth did not answer; she just let
Poison’s thoughts continue.

Finally, Poison reached the logical
conclusion to the path her thoughts followed, she looked closely at
Elizabeth and said, “You’re that Lady Ardellen, aren’t you, the
sorceress.”

“Just Elizabeth, for now” she answered.

“So
ye’re
not dead. Scuttle has it you are fleeing from your husband,
why?”

“My husband is dead, his body possessed
through necromancy, but I will avenge him,” Elizabeth stated with
certainty.

That gave Poison a moment of pause,
eventually,
she asked, “Where do
you travel to now?”

“Some things will have to remain hidden for
a time, like the real story of Fingers the thief,” Elizabeth
answered.

Poison looked ahead at Hetark again and then
said, “So, when did you figure out that I put Fingers up
te
that
show
?”

“From the start, I was watching you as
Hetark walked back to our table, so I saw you speak to a man who
then sat down behind us. The rest was easy; you wanted to knock
Hetark down a peg after your argument. I thought he acted poorly
toward you, so I let you have your fun. As I said at the time, it
was a nice show,” Elizabeth said and gave Poison a quick smile.

Poison smiled back ruefully. “I thought I
had you fooled.”

“It’s hard to fool a watching Kirnath
sorceress,” she replied.

“Then you are... ” Poison
said
with her good eye widening.

“Yes, a sorceress, but don’t let
superstitions fool you, most of what you’ve heard is exaggeration
and myth, I’m just as human now as I was before you knew of my
skills. I’m still just your eager student. Don’t put me up above
you Poison, I’d rather stay where I can be your friend,” Elizabeth
said, giving Poison a smile from her heart.

“All right, I’ll try, but I want you
te
teach me in return,” Poison
answered.

Elizabeth gave her a small smile of
encouragement.

“Could you teach
me te
speak better, te act more lady like?”

“If that is what you wish. Moreover, I am a
healer Poison. How long ago did you lose your eye?”

Poison’s hand went unconsciously to her
black eye patch.

“Two years, but I killed the
thiv’en
bastard who did this
te me
.”

“I can heal
you
if you wish,” Elizabeth said simply.

Poison swallowed in a dry throat before she
said, “Truly?” A faint ray of hope that she almost didn’t dare hold
sprang up in her mind.

“It will be my gift for your teaching,”
Elizabeth promised, “and we’ll start working on your speech as
well.”

“But…, but how?”

“I am a Kirnath; you know we heal the sick.
It is well within my powers to heal your eye.”

Poison swallowed hard and her one eye rimmed
with a half tear as she said, “To… to see with both my eyes… for
that, I would do almost anything.”

“Well, be that as it may, I have many things
I wish to ask
of
you, Poison, but
I will only ask, not demand. You may not have seen it yet, but have
you not noticed how much we look alike? I noticed it
immediately.”

“Yes, I noticed, our hair color is
different, I’m a little taller, and my eye color is completely
different, but our faces, yes, they are very similar,” Poison
agreed.

“I have things, important things, which you
could help me with, but I will not ask them
in
payment, I will ask them in friendship only, and if
you are not willing, I will understand.”

Poison swallowed and then said, “Well, I
suppose that since we look alike you might want me to act as a
stand in for you, like if someone was trying to assassinate
you.”

“No, that isn’t what I meant,” Elizabeth
answered.

Poison thought about it
anyway
and then said, “If you heal my eye, I
would take that risk and more for you. Whatever you ask of me.”

“Again, I will not accept your service in
payment. I will heal your eye just because I have the ability to do
so. May I ask you a question, why do you want me to teach you to
speak and act like a lady?”

“I want
te
be more courtly, like you, refined. I know I’m just a rough
alleysark
. The only men
comfortable around me are murderers,
thieves,
and
scum
. I
want
te
be
proud o’ myself,” she looked at Elizabeth’s eyes, as
if trying to see if she could trust her with her darkest secret,
and then she said, “I’m terrified o’ fine restaurants and hotels, I
shake at the thought o’ go’
in in
and
embarrass’in
myself. I don’t
know how te dress, act or speak, will you teach me?”

Elizabeth reached over and took her hand,
“Of course, Poison, I’d love to teach you. I also have two things I
wish to ask
of
you, and I didn’t
know
how,
exactly, they are very
personal.”

“It’s all right, Elizabeth, I’ve already
told you my worst fear,” Poison replied.

“The first thing is simple, I need you to
deliver an important message when we get to Myrnvale,” began
Elizabeth.

When Elizabeth finished explaining the
second thing she wanted, Poison nodded. “And you’ll teach me what I
need te know before then, right?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll learn from each other,”
Elizabeth said excitedly, things were starting to fall into
place.

G’Taklar landed in the dirt for the sixth
time that day. The drill sergeant’s boot came down on the back of
his neck pinning his face to the ground and
mashing
gritty dust into his mouth.

Sergeant Herms began an impressive verbal
assault of G’Taklar’s parentage.

“
I’m getting tired of this maggot!”
G’Taklar silently exclaimed to Jatar.

“
He’s not so bad, as far as sergeant
maggots go,”
Jatar's thought answered.

“
You’re sickeningly cheerful about my
discomfort,”
G’Taklar grumbled.

The sergeant’s tirade paused for a moment
while he inhaled, then he continued his barrage of foul insults,
“Now get up and try it again, you, butt
nosed
sniffer of fermented farts!”

G’Taklar climbed to his tired feet and
picked up the dull practice sword that lay on the ground. As he
raised his head G’Taklar’s gaze fell with loathing on his
‘favorite’ human - fat Sergeant Herms, who was doing his best to
imitate the visage of a Darknull.

They stood in the center training yard of
the barracks with twenty other
trainee
'volunteers' watching.

“Hurry it up, pig
puss
,” the sergeant prodded, and then
rapped
G’Taklar in the
shin
with the flat of his blade.

“
How much longer can this eternity of
grueling hell go on?”
G’Taklar wailed silently to Jatar.

“
Eternity of grueling hell? It’s only
been four days since you got here,”
Jatar reminded the boy.

Sergeant Herms goaded him on, “Try it again,
shaardess
. I know you love me, but
at least make it look like
ye’re
try
’in
te
hit me,”

“
I’d sure like to put him down!”
G’Taklar exclaimed to Jatar.

Jatar considered his request for a moment;
G’Taklar did need his confidence built up. He made a decision and
said,
“This guy’s getting you with the same trick every time.
Sweep your sword clockwise to parry the next time he goes low left,
then counter as soon as you make the block by bringing your locked
swords up into guard. Then cut over the top of his sword.
Immediately plunge your tip downward and lunge forward at his
groin. That will give him a taste of his own cooking.”

The sergeant looked over the rest of the
watching trainees with a stern eye. “All right, the rest of you pay
attention te graceless here, he’s about
te
give another demonstration on how te land in the dirt.
If you watch carefully and learn from his next
bruis’in
performance, you might not land on yer
ass when it’s yer turn.”

Swinging his practice sword negligently into
a
guard
position, the sergeant
looked at G’Taklar. “Come on pretty boy, let’s dance.”

G’Taklar lifted his dull blade and readied
himself for another bout with his personal nightmare. Jatar’s
advice echoed through his brain.

The sergeant made a strike for his head,
which turned out to be a feint, and then he thrust downward at
G’Taklar’s lower left hip. The dull tip would not pierce G’Taklar’s
leg, but it would bruise him and the pain would make his leg give
out which would send him to the unforgiving ground.

G’Taklar rotated his blade clockwise,
intercepting the sergeant’s thrust, then he took the trapped blade
upwards continuing on over, he snapped the tip down and lunged
forward as Jatar had suggested. The sword tip went between the
sergeant’s legs and the angled blade began rising toward the groin,
surprising the Tchulian sergeant. G’Taklar was worried that he
would actually hurt Herms, so he held back on the speed of the
lunge.

Herms had to leap
backward
to avoid a serious male injury.

He was off balance and lost his footing. The
rotund soldier staggered back four steps while swinging his hands
wildly for balance. He lost the battle and landed on his wide and
well-padded
seat with a ‘whump’
sound, causing a cloud of dust to puff out around his
posterior.

G’Taklar watched the sergeant’s face scrunch
up and become even uglier than normal
. “He’s definitely going to
kill me,”
G’Taklar decided.

Silence struck the rest of the recruits for
a moment, then someone in the back row snickered and grins briefly
appeared on a few of the demoralized trainees.

Their dusty sergeant got to his feet and
glared them into silence before he walked back in front of G’Taklar
who stood at attention.

Sergeant Herms looked at him silently for a
moment; to G’Taklar it seemed at least a full bell.
Finally,
the sergeant said, “Well done recruit,
I didn’t think you had it in you.”

G’Taklar visibly sighed with relief.

“Corporal
Yerl
!” the sergeant barked out.

“Yes, sergeant,” the corporal said marching
over and standing at attention.

“Do you have that butter knife you
confiscated from pretty boy?”

Reaching to his belt the corporal pulled the
old dagger out and presented it to the sergeant. He had cleaned it
and sharpened the blade to a razor’s edge.

The sergeant took it from the corporal,
pulled the blade out half way to look at the edge and then said,
“It looks like a real weapon now, I guess we’ll have
te
stop calling it a butter knife.”

The corporal didn’t look too happy, he had
become attached to the ancient dagger, but he left when the
sergeant said, “That’s all, corporal.”

Turning to G’Taklar the sergeant presented
the dagger to him hilt first. “You showed some spunk that I didn’t
think you had, so here’s your reward
fer
be’in a man.”

The sergeant faced the rest of the assembled
recruits and barked, “As
fer
the
rest of you, I’m not going to be as nice as I
was to
pretty boy here,” and as he finished his
sentence he brought his dull bladed sword up between G’Taklar’s
legs, and
rapped
him with medium
strength.