Seeker (The Source Chronicles Book 1) (17 page)

“Indeed, you may receive your death with his compliments.  King Varlock-Sharron does not take betrayal well.”

Lord Mika tried to catch his breath, but slowly, the world turned black around him.

*****

The servant continued to hold the cord about his neck, until he fell completely limp, and several minutes after that.  Certain he was dead, she took the rings from his fingers, and lifted him from the chair, heavy as he was.  She dropped him to the bed, rolling him onto his stomach.

She grinned to herself, depositing his rings into a pouch at her side.  Composing herself, wrapping the cord back around her wrist, she went then to the door, stepping out.

“Lord Mika wishes not to be disturbed.  He’s taking a rest.  He’ll call when he wakes.”

The guards barely acknowledged her, leaning against the wall, continuing the conversation they’d been having.

The servant woman simply walked away. 

It would not be until early the next morning that Lord Mika Forkuln, former Foreign Minister of Sharron, was found dead.  The guards could not identify the servant woman who had last seen him alive, and no one came forward to offer an explanation. 

Showing the respect for him he felt, King Wilnar-Medira buried Lord Mika in a simple unmarked grave with no ceremony at all.

Chapter 15

Cam dodged the swing, bringing his staff up to stop the next attack.  Unexpectedly, the boy dropped backwards and rolled along his back.  As he righted himself, kneeling, he held the staff near an end, and swung to take out Cam’s legs.

Cam jumped, and as he landed, he stepped forward.  Before Alran could recover, Cam brought his staff around, stopping it at the boy’s cheek.

From the others assembled, murmurs arose.  Alran sighed, and dropped his staff.

The sun was beating down as the dust settled from their practice combat.  It was unseasonably mild for mid Prilentis.  Cam offered a hand, and pulled the boy to his feet.

“Not bad, Alran, not bad.  But as much as holding the staff on its’ end gives you more reach, it offsets your balance.  The trade off is not advantageous.”

“But I was better, wasn’t I, Lord Cam?” asked the boy, breathing hard.

Cam grinned despite the boy giving him a title.  “Yes, you were.  Not bad at all for a couple week’s worth of work.”  He addressed everyone else.  “That’s it.  We have things to do, preparations to make, so practice is over.  Alran, Khelvan, Mikar, Vurgan, Tarlo and Ella, feel free to keep your quarterstaffs.  You six pass muster, and are more than competent with the staff as a weapon.  Lyrra-Sharron wanted the instructors to qualify some with the weapons we’re teaching, and you six are it.  The rest of you, see Lyrra-Sharron or Dak for what to arm with, unless another Lieutenant has already told you to do so.  Any questions?”

There was muttering, but nothing more.

“You’re reminded that we march at dawn.  Get rest, make preparations.  When this is over and done with, we’ll continue instruction here.  Dismissed.”

They left, the six with their staffs.  Khelvan and Alran approached him.

“We just wanted to take a minute to thank you, Lord Cam,” said Alran.  “You’re qualifying us with the staffs let’s us march tomorrow.”

“We’re going to be facing Sharron Army soldiers, Alran,” Cam reminded his student.  “You might wish you were being left here instead.”

“I joined the Falcon Raiders to fight,” Alran said proudly.  “Now I have a weapon I can fight with.  Thanks.”

Before Cam could say anything more, they were off.

He let out a breath of exasperation, gathering the various staffs.  He was sore, having taken a hit or two, and had had no time to heal himself.  Not to mention the fact he’d taken a beating from Lyrra-Sharron with rapier and dagger this morning.

Cam couldn’t help but smile at the memory anyhow.  He’d actually managed to kill her again, to their mutual surprise.  It had not been easy, but all the training, between his quarterstaff instruction in the afternoon, and Lyrra-Sharron’s swordfighting in the morning, had honed his body.  Cam was in the best shape of his life, lean, strong, and energetic.  His balance was excellent, and his eye/hand coordination outstanding. 

Cam had never taken this kind of time to improve his body.  The only thing he’d taken any time to do was study what he could of sorcery.

He frowned.  Every day he worked at it further, and every day more of his strength returned.  Nonetheless, it was frustrating.  He could still do only about a quarter of what he’d been capable of before. 

But his understanding of the power within himself was far greater.

He shook the thoughts away, and finished gathering the staffs.

Cam went to the ruined shop that was used as weapons storage, and began putting away the poles.  He was joined a moment later by Andim Noros, with an armful of wooden practice swords.  He and Dak traded off training Falcon Raiders in the use of the longsword, broadsword, and two-handed sword. 

Andim, the veteran soldier, had been an outstanding combatant as a youth, and was still more than adequate.

“Cam,” Andim addressed him.

“Andim,” he acknowledged.  Cam found he liked the grizzled older man, and there was a sort of shared respect between them.

“How many did you grant use of the staff to?”

“Only six,” remarked Cam.  “But then, Lyrra-Sharron only wanted a half dozen with quarterstaff.”

Andim rumbled low in his throat as he settled the practice swords on a makeshift rack.  “Three dozen.  Personally, I think only two-thirds of them are really ready, but then, Dak was confident they’d be fine.”

“How do you like your new rank?” asked Cam.

Andim made a sound somewhat between a bark, a laugh, and a groan.  “Lieutenant.  Phaw!  I know it helps to maintain a sort of order, but being ranked an officer is not for me.”

Cam suppressed a smirk.  At the planning meeting last night, Lyrra-Sharron had sprung the rank on Andim, Kallan, and Cam.  She had also, though they were unaware of it, bestowed the rank of Commander on Torman and Nadav, and the rank of Captain on Dak. 

“I take orders, I’m not used to giving them,” continued Andim.

Now Cam grinned.  “I’m not used to giving them, or taking them, personally.”

Andim turned to him.  “Never a soldier, eh?”

“No discipline,” replied Cam.

Andim barked a laugh.  He clapped Cam on the shoulder.  “Ya know, I never thought you were worth the trouble, but you continue to prove me wrong.”  He lowered his voice.  “What about your, ah, abilities?”

Cam fought back the instant concern that he’d been discovered, until he remembered that Andim had been there for his rescue.  “I’m...working on them.”

“Still, you’re good with that staff,” Andim remarked.  “Sorcerer or no, you’re a good man, Cam Murtallan.”

Cam was touched.  Coming from Andim, it meant a lot.  “Thanks, Andim.”

The older man muttered something under his breath, then left the room.

Cam didn’t think he’d ever get used to being respected.

He walked out of the storage building, and noticed the sun beginning to set.  It was later than he thought.  He’d go to his room for his cloak before the evening meal.

“Lieutenant!” he kept walking, until the man called twice more.  He turned, and a young Falcon Raider ran up to him with a parchment.  “Lord Cam, Lyrra-Sharron needs to know which you qualified with the quarterstaff?”

Cam nodded, repressing the sigh.  Lyrra-Sharron didn’t allow the use of any of her titles, but for Cam and the other “officers”, it was another story entirely.  He took the sheet, and quickly wrote in the names of the six. 

“There,” he handed back the paper.  “And tell Lyrra-Sharron I’ll speak with her at the evening meal.”

The boy acknowledged him with a sort of salute, then ran off.

Cam paused, looking about the street.  The tension prior to the coming assault was like some sort of tangible sensation, similar to static electricity in the air.  Cam took a deep breath, let it out slow, and went to his room.

His space was above the main inn, the central gathering place of this group of the Falcon Raiders.  The other leaders were here as well, the only ones who didn’t share a room.  Cam opened his door.

It was a small area, but much more than Cam was used to.  A cot, a diminutive, cracked table, a chair, a little wash basin and a chest were all that he had.  Of course, all had been provided for him, and though it was practically nothing, it was far more than Cam had actually possessed before.

On a peg behind the door, Cam’s black cloak hung.  He grabbed it, then paused, examining his space.

A place to call his own.  The respect of others.  And people to call friends.  Cam had never had these things.  He’d slept in barns and on floors, except for the rare occasion he’d worked some sort of odd job for a bed.  No one had ever really noticed him, let alone respected him.  And he’d not had a friend, not since he was a very small boy.

The only thing he was missing was his powers.  His companion for over thirteen years, his only confidant, the center of his life.  His power had been everything.  Now, his life was very different indeed. 

Cam again shook the thought.  He did find himself becoming comfortable with certain aspects of the new life he’d taken on.

He descended the stairs to the main hall.

For an hour or so, Cam mingled amongst the Falcon Raiders.  For the most part, these were not meaningful conversations.  One or two of his students spoke to him about future training.  Two or three questioned him about taking up the quarterstaff after the coming assault.  He exchanged pleasantries with Andim and Kallan.  Once in a while Cam found himself sitting alone, sipping tea, observing everyone around him.

Dinner was ready, and Cam sat with Dak, Lyrra-Sharron, Andim and Kallan.   They partook of the rich stew with beef and carrots and potatoes, and soft, fresh bread, and some dark ale.  The conversation was largely benign small talk, passing the time.

If anyone had told Cam what he’d be doing almost two months after coming to the Kingdom of Sharron, he’d have roared with disbelieving laughter.  He’d never envisioned himself in a position like the one he found himself in. 

After the meal, there were more scattered conversations around the hall.  But Lyrra-Sharron had imposed a curfew tonight, and soon Dak, Cam, Andim and Kallan helped their leader to herd the other Falcon Raiders to their beds. 

Upon entering his own room, Cam lit a candle, and set his cloak back on the peg.  His pack was ready for tomorrow, and he stripped off his vest and belt, down to his tunic and breeches.  He sat on his cot, cross-legged, and began to clear his head, breathing deep.

Cam focused on the candle at first, slowing his heart, relaxing.  Then he closed his eyes, and sank into himself.

There it was before him, the center of his being, the power within.  Glowing like sunfire, orange and red and yellow and gold, the webbing still holding onto it.

Cam found himself comparing his power to the candle.  He found himself comparing the nature of the energy to the flame.  The similarities in color, the feelings of warmth.  He had always thought his inner power unique, and only could compare it to the grandeur of the sun.  He’d never considered its likeness to a simple flame.

When he’d begun to learn sorcery, he’d never taken the time to really analyze this power, this entity within himself.  He’d been aware of it, of course, like seeing it out of the corner of your eye.  But he’d never become familiar with it, never studied its intricacies.

              He found that even though he was weaker in his sorcerous abilities, his increased physical strength and muscle tone made it easier for him to meditate, and focus his mental abilities.   

With the things he could do, though, he was more thorough, intense.  His healing abilities, though not as capable as before, we more considered, more thought out.  He didn’t just perform a quick fix, as he’d been apt to do before, but actually went to the source of an injury, and made necessary repairs to properly heal it. 

He also found himself more focused on what he did when he cast spells, and was learning that the words he used to unleash his powers began to actually mean something to him.

He grimaced, sending a ripple through the power within himself.  It had taken him months to find a library with a spell book of any kind, when he’d finally managed to sneak within the Historic Heart, the center of Aldara, and get to the once public library beside the occupied palace.  Then, it took him months more to learn to pronounce the arcane phrases that went into the casting of a spell. 

Everyone knew that sorcerers used the archaic language of magic to unleash their powers.  Stories about the strange words employed by spellcasters abounded.  It had been that way since before the Falling of the Skies.

At the thought of The Falling, his power brightened noticeably.  Cam found the reaction stirred his curiosity.  But the energy had already returned to its usual state, before he could really access it.

Cam forced himself back to the task at hand.  He wanted his powers back.

He examined the energy, explored the surface of the webbing.  He reached the breach, just about a quarter the size of the whole, equal to the power he could control.  Meticulously, he began to draw apart the web.  For an instant, it was sticky, like an actual spider’s web.  Then it would disintegrate, and it always washed over him, through him, as he let it fall away, producing the most indescribable and intense sensation.  He paused, and continued his intensive work.

Too many times, overexcited, he’d sped up, only destroying the progress he’d made.  No more.  He didn’t know how long it would take, but he knew that it no longer mattered.  Time was irrelevant.  He was set in his singular thought, and would work as slowly and patiently as necessary to recover what was lost.

Even in such a deep trance, Cam heard a loud knocking on his door.

It took him a moment to come out of his meditation.  When he did, the knock was clearly louder, followed by Lyrra-Sharron calling out his name.

“Come...” he tried to call, but his voice was gone, so he cleared his throat.  “Come in!”

Lyrra-Sharron entered.  She had a cloth wrapped bundle in her arms. 

“I knocked a couple dozen times.  Were you asleep, or dead?”

Cam was always in a decent mood after meditations, so her chiding didn’t affect him.  “I was meditating.  I go into a pretty deep trance when I do it at night.”