Soldiers of Ruin, Page 3

  Focusing on his breathing, Pacian patiently closed the door as silently as he’d opened it, and then drew one of his daggers from beneath his robe as he crept up behind the man. He pressed the blade against the side of the man’s throat, and the scribbling sound ceased.

  “Hold still and I won’t have to cut you,” Pacian whispered into the priest’s ear.

  “Mister Savidge, your reputation precedes you,” Inquisitor Cain replied quietly, laying down the quill and giving his undivided attention.

  “You were very disrespectful to my friend just now,” Pacian continued in the same low voice. “I wanted you to know how upset that made me. No, don’t reach for your weapon — you won’t have time to use it before I slice your throat.” Cain’s other arm stopped moving under the desk, and he clasped his hands in front of him instead.

  “I am simply doing my duty,” Cain rasped, swallowing loudly. “Nellise is a gifted young woman, and if she so chooses, she could abuse those gifts terribly. I will not permit this to occur.”

  “You will permit what I say you will,” Pacian whispered with an edge to his voice. “I owe her my life many times over, Cain. She has faced the horrors of war and monsters, both human and otherwise, and I will not stand by and allow her to fall by the likes of you.”

  “I do not seek her destruction, Mister Savidge,” Cain corrected him. “If a member of the faith becomes lost, it is my task to set them on the right path. Expelling her from the chapter was not enough to dissuade her from this course she is set upon, so I will take whatever steps required to ensure she does not fall from grace. Some time with the Keepers of the Light will redeem her, and she will once again bring peace to a world that has seen enough of war.”

  “I’m neither patient nor prone to subtlety, so I’ll say my piece and be gone. Leave her be — Nel is a far better person than you know, and if you choose to come for her, you’d better bring a lot of friends, because she will not be alone.”

  “Thank you for the advice. I will be sure to do just that,” Cain replied, his confidence growing with each passing moment. The initial shock of Pacian’s arrival was wearing off and it was time to leave. He pressed the back of his knife against the inquisitor’s throat and then Pacian pulled back quickly, creeping to the door while Cain could still feel the impression against his skin. By the time he realised the knife was no longer there, Pacian had left the room and was hurrying down the corridor.

  After stepping out into the nave once again, he shoved one of his lock-picks into the lock and snapped it off, jamming the door in case the inquisitor thought to follow him. By the time Pacian reached the main doors, there was still no sign of pursuit.

  Smirking confidently from his success, Pacian dashed into the night and threaded his way through the streets back to the Fair Maiden Inn, bumping into some poor bloke in his haste.

  Mumbling his apologies, Pacian kept moving, heading for the Fair Maiden Inn where he and the others had stayed during their time in the city. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be here, and anticipated a hostile reception if he made his presence known, but Cain’s threat to “deal with” Nellise at some point made Pacian realise he needed to remain close in order to protect her. That meant he was going to have to convince her to allow him to accompany her and the other women.

  When he stepped inside, he spotted Nellise sitting at a table, appearing pensive after her conversation with the inquisitor. Next to her sat Sayana Arai and Valennia Far-Eagle, who would be travelling with her to the dwarven city of Stonegaard where they would seek some kind of magic stick to fight a monster, or something. He hadn’t really been paying attention in the last meeting.

  Pacian made his way across the common room and without warning, pulled up a chair and sat down across from Nellise. The three women were instantly on alert, until Pacian pulled back his hood to reveal his face.

  “Relax, it’s just me,” he assured them, though they didn’t follow his advice.

  “I’m not sure if I should welcome you or call the guards,” Nellise remarked, a fine crease on her forehead the only sign of her irritation.

  “Unless you’re in on the plot to topple the throne, you’ve got nothing to worry about from me,” Pacian said, taking note of the concerned looks from all three of them. Next to him sat Sayana, a petite woman who barely passed five feet in height, with cascading red locks. Despite her diminutive frame, her talent with sorcery was something to behold.

  Having lived in the wilds of Aielund for most of her life, she had experienced difficulty adapting to crowded cities, but much like Nellise, her confident appearance indicated she had recently sorted things out.

  To Pacian’s left sat Valennia Far-Eagle, a towering figure even while seated, topping out at six feet with a solid frame he’d rarely seen on a woman. Although heavily muscled, she was by no means unattractive, a point which Pacian had paid close attention to one evening a few nights ago when he’d had a little too much to drink. Or so he’d been told, anyway. It was kind of a blur.

  Valennia’s raven-black hair tumbled down around her shoulders and she wore simple, warm clothing, as there was little need to wear her breastplate in the comfortable confines of the inn. Despite Nellise’s ministrations, the akoran warrior-maiden was still sporting impressive bruises from their recent battles and ate her food slowly, as if reluctant to move faster than she needed to.

  Valennia had been on the front line of their last fight, and although she had defeated many of their dark-robed enemies, she had also taken a huge amount of punishment. In a way, she had carried the fight, even if it was Pacian who had the guts to eliminate the man who had made it all happen.

  “I had thought you weren’t coming with us,” Sayana remarked cautiously. Pacian reached over and snatched a piece of chicken from her plate and gave her a quick wink before she could protest. He was rewarded with a solid kick to his leg under the table that made him groan.

  “What, I can’t sit down and say goodbye to my friends?” Pacian responded innocently, but Nellise was having none of that.

  “No, I don’t think you can,” she answered. “You left, and for good reasons.”

  “Aiden’s the one who kicked me out, remember?” Pacian replied, giving up the pretense. “Fine, yes, I reckon can still be useful, and you know it. I want to come with you, but I want you to be okay with it. I won’t cause trouble, I’ll just tag along and do what I’m told, I promise.”

  “And if I still say no?” Nellise asked.

  “Then I’ll probably follow at a distance,” Pacian answered. “You may not want to admit it, but you’re going to need my help on this one.” Nellise sighed and glanced at the other two, seeking their advice.

  “I think we work well together, Pacian,” Valennia said, “so long as you do not try to bed me again while drunk. I decide who I sleep with.” Pacian’s eyes darted back and forth between Valennia and Nellise as this previously undisclosed information came to light, but if Nellise was surprised at this revelation, she didn’t show it.

  “I will also add that I find your vicious streak very appealing,” Valennia added.

  “I don’t,” Nellise warned. “If you can’t keep your impulses in check, you’ve no place in this group.”

  “I’ve no intention of getting in your way,” Pacian replied, hurt that she would even have to say it. “Since when have I ever cared about diplomacy?”

  “He’s right you know,” Sayana muttered, giving Nellise a sidelong glance.

  “That is precisely my point,” Nellise explained. “You will not ignore my instructions and attempt to fix problems via your own methods, nor will you undermine my efforts. In fact, for the most part, I don’t want you to say anything.”

  “Well, that hardly seems fair,” Pacian scoffed, looking around to the other women for support.

  “Sounds perfectly fair to me,” Sayana offered thoughtfully.

  “I am already relegated to the background in such places, waiting to act,” Valennia shrugged.

  “T
hen it’s settled,” Nellise said, smiling ever so slightly.

  “This week is going to be all kinds of fun,” Pacian muttered sarcastically, leaning back in his seat and pondering the possibilities of going it alone. The group had already split in half over the controversy he had created and their ability to work together was going to be sorely tested. He resigned himself to putting up with Sayana’s sparring and Nellise’s indifference, knowing that it at least allowed him to remain close to her.

  They spoke quietly of mundane matters as they ate their meal. Valennia was surprisingly sombre that evening and said little over the following hour. Pacian wasn’t entirely sure what her problem was, and didn’t really want to pry in matters that didn’t concern him.

  He kept silent for the remainder of the evening, content to keep an eye out for any priestly types that were looking for him or Nellise. Eventually, he bid the three women a good night and headed up to his room. Aiden had been here at some point during the day to collect his belongings, leaving Pacian with a hollow feeling in his chest at the sight of the almost-bare room.

  This was quickly replaced by anger at the way Aiden had treated him, and he spat out a curse to the empty room. Another thought occurred to him at that moment, too. If the inquisitor was going to come looking for him, then he’d most likely pay a visit during the night, possibly with several burly companions to haul him away.

  Searching through his pack, Pacian pulled out some fishing line and rigged an unpleasant surprise, tying the line from the door to a bucket of ice-cold water that he hung above the door. It was more of a prank than a trap, but it would teach anyone who burst into his room a lesson.

  Carefully closing the door on the way out, Pacian went looking for another place to sleep in down the hall. He put his ear to each door and listened intently until he found one with no sounds coming from within, and upon unlocking it, found a nice empty room where he wouldn’t be disturbed. Just before he drifted off to sleep, Pacian heard the faint sound of water splashing onto the floor and a startled cry as someone had an unexpected cold bath.

  * * *

  “I can’t ride a horse,” Sayana remarked as she looked up at the stately brown mare before her. The four of them stood at the front of a stable in the southern part of the city, heavily clothed against the cold while Nellise examined the horses that had been provided for them. Given that a huge number of mounts had been taken west to aid in the war effort, the mere fact they had been given as an option to Pacian’s group spoke to the importance of their task. Not everyone was pleased with the situation, however.

  “I too have no experience with such beasts,” Valennia said, levelling a threatening gaze at a bewildered-looking stallion. “The offer itself is insulting — does Criosa believe I am incapable of running?”

  “I think she offered them so we wouldn’t have to run,” Nellise mused, examining the horses with an expert eye.

  “Because she is your beloved leader, I will not challenge her to a duel for this insult,” Valennia offered graciously.

  “I suppose there isn’t much point to half of us riding if the other two aren’t,” Nellise sighed, stroking one of the horses fondly. “We won’t be requiring mounts after all, stable master.”

  “As you wish, m’lady,” the stern, middle-aged man replied. He gestured to some nearby stable hands, who took the horses by the reins and led them back inside. Pacian wasn’t eager to carry all of his gear on a two-day walk into the mountains, but didn’t see the point of bothering with horses in the first place. Stonegaard was an underground city, and they wouldn’t be able to take their mounts underground anyway.

  Making their way through the crowds, Pacian noticed the increasing traffic as they approached the southern gate of Fairloch. Dozens of carts were leaving the city, transporting wares to places near and far. The wagon next to him seemed to be little more than half full, with enough room for a few people to sit under cover. Just what he was looking for — an easy ride.

  “Excuse me sir,” he called to a nearby merchant, perched upon his wagon. “Are you by chance heading to Stonegaard?”

  “After a fashion, sir,” the merchant called back, a hawkish man with an elaborate moustache and fine clothing. “My destination is Auchlevie, a village that is but an hour’s walk from the city proper.”

  “Close enough,” Pacian beamed. “You seem like a gentleman, so would you permit myself and these three lovely ladies to travel with you, sir? I can offer you a silver noble per head.”

  “As it happens, I have space and would enjoy the company,” the merchant said. “You are welcome to climb aboard as we wait for the traffic to clear. And I’ll thank you to hand over your coins in advance, sir.” Pacian passed him the four silver nobles and hurried around the back, hoping to squeeze in next to Nellise for the journey, but found all three ladies had already taken up the remaining space.

  “I guess you’ll have to sit next to the merchant,” Sayana shrugged, a subtle grin on her freckled features. “Enjoy the view.” The three of them laughed as Pacian slumped back to the front of the wagon, resigned to staring at the business end of an ox for the journey.

  Chapter Two

  The main tower of the University of the Arcane was one of the more prominent buildings in the city, standing alongside the cathedral and the smaller, less impressive student’s tower.

  Huddled down in his own longcoat, Aiden was comfortable enough but longed to rest his weary mind and body at the inn, but the note from the wizard Desmond begged his indulgence a little while longer. Although their association had begun with a rocky start, they now seemed to share a grudging respect for one another, though the old wizard clearly thought of Aiden as a half-trained dabbler in the arts. This description wasn’t all that far from the truth, if Aiden was completely honest with himself.

  For years, he had wanted to come here and learn the art properly, instead of gleaning what he could from whatever books he could acquire at home. He may have raw talent, but it also took money and influence to obtain access to the vast knowledge stored within these walls, something his family lacked.

  The relative warmth of the tower was a welcome relief from the persistent cold. He passed by the shining metallic man standing perfectly still in lower floor of the tower, not unlike a statue. It gave Aiden chills just looking at it, for it was actually an arcane construct capable of understanding the orders of its master and acting upon them.

  The laboratory hadn’t changed since his last visit — the walls were lined with curious shapes covered in heavy cloth and the smell of burnt wood was ever-present. A plump grey cat lounged near the fireplace, soaking in the heat as its yellow eyes gazed sleepily at Aiden.

  “Good evening, sir,” he said to Desmond. The old wizard was something of a cliché, sporting a long grey beard with matching robe and sour disposition. He was sifting through some small metallic items on his desk, and turned to regard Aiden as he entered.

  “Punctuality is a virtue, Mister Wainwright,” he said approvingly, smoothing his beard. “I half expected you to delay your visit until tomorrow.”

  “I wouldn’t even consider it,” Aiden lied, rubbing his eyes with fatigue. “I should warn you however, that I’ve had an exhausting day and I’m not in the mood for our usual repartee. Say your piece and I’ll be gone.”

  “Succinct as usual, sir,” Desmond huffed. “You might show a measure of appreciation once you learn why I summoned you here.” Aiden’s curiosity was piqued as the wizard picked up something heavy from the table and held it before him. It was the jewel-tipped sceptre he had recovered from the fallen city of Ferrumgaard, weeks ago. It was a powerful arcane weapon, able to focus brilliant energy upon a small point to burn through just about anything.

  “I recall you saying a few days ago that you were trying to repair it,” Aiden breathed, reaching out to take the powerful sceptre in his hands, “but I was under the impression that it was going to take some time.”

  “I expedited the work,” Desmond exp
lained proudly. “I needed to call in a few favours, and even swiped one of the Arch-Chancellor’s rare crystals to accomplish the feat. I had to set aside all of my work, which ruffled the feathers of a few of my colleagues to say the least, but considering the task you are undertaking, I felt it was a small sacrifice to make.”

  Examining it closely, Aiden could see that new crystals had been fixed to the head of the sceptre, replacing the ones he had broken when using it like a club to save his own life. He levelled a suspicious gaze at the wizard as he recalled a few of the comments he had made regarding Aiden’s capabilities in the recent past.

  “I thought you said that I was too inexperienced to use something like this?” he asked. “I recall the term ‘hedge wizard’ being bandied about.”

  “Well, that was actually Dean Webber’s opinion,” Desmond coughed, appearing embarrassed. “I won’t lie to you, Aiden — some of our more experienced students have been trained to use arcane devices such as this and even then, remain under careful supervision. For a self-taught individual such as yourself to manipulate dangerous equipment is… ill-advised.”

  “And yet you just handed one to me,” Aiden drawled. “Is there something you’re not telling me, Dean?”

  “As you recently learned,” the wizard explained, “there are precious few scholars studying the problem of how to defeat the Ironlord before it returns to our world. The dragon, Salinder, seems to have developed an affinity for you, and you are not completely without talent, after all.”

  “Was that a compliment? I shall have to make a note of this in my journal,” Aiden drawled.

  “The short of it is,” the wizard blustered, becoming increasingly cranky, “you are valuable to the cause, and should you perish in the lost city of Feybourne it will be a regrettable setback. So, it behoves me to equip you as best I can, in the hope that you will return triumphant.”