By Blood Betrayed (The Kingsblood Chronicles) (33 page)

“The sphere will not shield you from spells designed to pierce illusion, so you may wish to consider concealing Gem, at least until we are away from the area. That’s why I am not going to weave a
seeming
about you. I do have a spell that will alter your appearance, but I hesitate to suggest using it,” the skull said, his voice becoming somber.

Lian asked, “What does the spell involve, Lord Grey?”

I see a possible betrayal, Lian
, said Gem warningly. She thought privately that if she had skin, the skull would make it crawl.

“Contact with Undead can age a mortal,” Lord Grey explained. “I’m sure you’ve seen this at some point, or at least heard of it?”

Lian nodded and Lord Grey continued, “I have a necromantic spell which has a similar effect. It is a permanent alteration, and it will reduce your lifespan by the years you age. It is irreversible, except through the most potent life-extending magics.”

“What happens to the years you steal?” asked Snog, who had gleaned intimate knowledge of necromancy from his clan’s subjugation.

If Lord Grey experienced any bitterness toward the goblin for interfering with his suggestion, his tone didn’t reveal it. “It becomes power that I can store and use later. Necromancers have many spells which deal with the garnering of life force to use in spellcasting. This one merely uses life
span
.”

Lian said, “We’ve got one more day until we reach Mola. Before I even consider it, however, there are some things I must know.”

“Ask,” said the skull simply.

“You said that the years I age will be deducted from my lifespan. Does that mean that if I was fated to die at twenty, and you age me to twenty-one, I will suddenly drop dead?”

Lord Grey replied, “No. If your body would have died of old age at twenty, you would die. However, if you were fated to die at twenty because of a prophecy or curse, you will continue to live until that
year
, rather than that
age
. Those who die as a direct result of this aging spell are usually ones I age beyond the point where they would have died normally. Some of them, with weak hearts, die from a smaller ‘dose’ of the spell due to heart failure. But my suggestion is to age you only five years, which shouldn’t be too much of a shock to your system.

“There is a problem with this plan, young Alan. When we return to your homelands, you won’t be the right age. If this doesn’t occur for fifteen years, that won’t matter, but if you need to identify yourself to loyalists before then, there will those who say that you cannot be the crown prince because you are too old.”

“At this point, Lord Grey, I seriously doubt that I will be able to return home in under ten years, minimum. I don’t know what my plans will be at this point, but I do know whatever my eventual plan, it will be a long time before I am ready to act on it,” Lian explained.

Snog shook his head, fingering the pommel of his dagger nervously. Lian leaned over to clap the goblin reassuringly on the shoulder, then picked up the pace to carry them further away from the farmers.

“How long does the spell take to cast?” he asked.

“It is a combat spell, Alan. Moments only,” Lord Grey replied.

Lian nodded. “I’ll give you an answer, then, before Mola. I have to think about this.”

“Of course,” the skull said calmly. All trace of his normal sardonicism were absent from his tone. “This is a dangerous spell, I readily admit. And it requires a great deal of trust on your part, for I could appropriate your entire life if I wished. In my defense, I will point out that had I wished to do so, I would have left your sword drained.”

“Perhaps, sir,” Lian said, irony now in his tone. “Or perhaps it was part of a much deeper game you are playing.”

The skull laughed again then became silent.

You aren’t going to let him do this thing, are you?
asked Gem.

Probably not. But a fourteen year old warrior wandering the world is certainly a dangerous thing to be. I’m not happy at the prospect of losing those years, believe me
, he replied.

But it’s better than losing all of your remaining years to the assassin’s knife, eh
? she asked rhetorically. Lian didn’t need to answer.

Neither the sword nor her charge approved of the proposal, but it would likely help them confound pursuers. There was a world of difference between searching for a fourteen year old boy and hunting for a man under the age of thirty.

Two hours out of Mola, within sight of the Kyrian Sea, Lian said, “I don’t see a better way to keep my identity secret, Lord Grey, but I’m not willing to sacrifice so much right now. Instead, Gem will weave an illusion to change my age and appearance. We’ll hope that any assassins we encounter won’t be able to penetrate it. I’m not going to wrap Gem. Because of her size and shape, there will be no question that the package contains a sword, and the obvious reason for someone to hide a sword is because someone’s looking for it.”

“I disagree with your decision,” said Lord Grey, “but I understand your reasons. However, I will still do what I can to aid you. Doubtless, some of your uncle’s mages are as amoral as his wife is, or Lyrial was for that matter, and I don’t relish the thought of encountering them.”

At the bottom of the rise, Lian had Gem weave an illusory seeming about him, which caused him to appear ten years older, and to be of darker complexion. He was still obviously from the west, but his features were quite unlike his own. “The spell can’t alter your voice or your scent,” Gem warned. “It should, however, be moderately difficult to penetrate. Lord Grey’s ‘sphere of protection’ will keep a general illusion detection from identifying the glamour. To see beneath the illusion, someone will have not only have detected it, but they will also have to use magics specifically designed to pierce illusions.”

Lian had been taught to pitch his voice low by Elowyn, who punished mistakes harshly. “Does this sound different enough to pass muster?” Lian asked huskily in his “adult” voice.

“It does if you can maintain that tone and inflection,” the skull judged. “If not, I know of some herbs which will lower your voice.”

Lian blinked, and Lord Grey explained, “There are spells which require a certain vocal range to perform, and consequently herbalists have discovered the means to induce changes in pitch and range. We can probably procure the necessary items from an herbalist in Mola, provided that we can ensure that the person is discreet.

“In my experience, most herbalists are,” he said with a chuckle.

Lian said, “I can hold the pitch indefinitely, even in battlefield conditions. It would have to be an extreme surprise to jolt me out of character.”

“I can vouch for that,” added Gem. “He had a very demanding teacher.”

Lian admonished both the sword and the skull from speaking from that moment on unless it was
absolutely
necessary. He then checked to make sure he hadn’t inadvertently silenced Lord Grey. He and Snog subsequently struck up a conversation about mercenary prospects, which they were still discussing as they approached within sight of the seaport of Mola.

Chapter Nineteen

“The moon farthest from Tieran is pale Sterath, representing the God of Fate. Possessing the lengthiest cycle of all the moons, Sterath waxes and wanes in a five month rhythm. Thus, Sterath is full at Year’s End only once every five years.

“It is no surprise, then, that the traditional number associated with fates and dooms is five. We say, ‘what ye sow shall be reaped fivefold,’ and, ‘the mirror shattered shall five years unluck begin.’ Five years is the classical period for divine vengeance to come to fruition, and indeed five is the number of
taelsa
which serve the Grim Lord.”

-- “Moons and their Gods,” heretical text from the
Western Kingdom of Thrace, author unknown

It was nearly noon when they crested the final hill and headed to the seaport. The first structure they beheld was a massive stone dock, almost half a mile wide, which ran parallel to nearly the entire beachhead. There were berths for fifty full-sized merchant ships, and the harbor appeared to be extremely deep. There were only two ships in port at the moment, and there were also a few fishing boats on the sand, beached well above the high tide mark. Lian supposed that the latter weren’t out to sea because of needed repair work.

Three wooden watchtowers rose above the dockworks, although the outer two were apparently in poor repair. The center one was well maintained, although it wasn’t currently manned. There were no obvious fortifications to be seen in Mola beyond the watchtower, and Lian supposed that the reputation of the remaining vampires must repel raiders most of the time.

One of the two ships in dock was a fat merchantman, of wide beam and deep draft. Sailors were busy rolling barrels that probably contained salted fish or fish oil down the gangplanks, as the dock was higher than the ship’s main deck. The other ship was damaged, and its crew was trimming a tall pine tree for repairs to the main mast. Greythorn Forest to the east of Mola was free of the ubiquitous grey thorn bushes, and good shipping timber could be found there.

Lian had little training as a sailor, but it he thought it likely that the second ship had been in battle recently. It was much smaller than the merchantman, and was certainly sleeker and faster. It was also armed with a pair of ballistae in the forecastle and a single one in the stern.

None of the local governments floated warships of this type, so Lian conjectured that it was either a privateer or a mercenary ship. It also seemed that they were very short on crewmen.
Could be they need some hands
, Lian thought to himself.

Mola was still a major fish production point, and therefore supplied a great deal of salted fish to Fendar Port as well as other destinations to the south. Like most fishing villages, nearly all of the able-bodied citizens went out to work the boats daily, leaving behind those too young, too old, too sick, or too pregnant to handle nets. The only others that would be still in town while the fleet was out would be the blacksmith, the cooper, and the sheriff and his men.

As they approached, the inevitable dogs trotted out to make challenge. Lian admonished Snog to ignore them and proceeded to do just that. Snog, having little experience with canines other than the occasional forest wolf, found the dogs to be frightening. The curs, sensing Snog’s fear, barked loudly at him, keeping to the side away from Lian and his gelding. Lian reined in, maneuvering Beliu behind Nightmare’s rump, and pulled his mount into a rear. Beliu obliged his rider by kicking forward with his forehooves, scaring the dogs off.

The sailors loading the merchant ship, which he could see was named
Golden Gull
, paused in their toils to yell insults at the goblin and his companion. Shouts of derision aimed at Snog were interspersed with “boggle-lover,” aimed at Lian. The jeering didn’t surprise Lian, given the violent history between goblins and men, but they did anger him. He clenched his jaw against the taunts and rode on.

Ignorant people take ignorant actions
, Gem said soothingly to her charge.
And only the truly foolish would taunt a well-armed mercenary who is riding a well-trained warhorse.

Gem’s comment did much to lessen his anger at the prejudiced sailors, and he rode past the
Gull
, pretending to ignore the sailors. Snog followed suit, though he kept his hand on the magical dagger’s hilt.

To the surprise of Lian and Snog, the shouts were abruptly halted not by the officers of the merchant, but rather by the arrival of two large goblins clad in chainmail on the deck of the second ship. The jibes stopped at once, and the sailors bent their backs to their work. The name on the second ship, engraved in both Elvish and Southron, was
Searcher
.

“Those two are pretty damned big,” said Lian to Snog quietly.

Snog nodded, wiping his nose with the back of his sleeve. “Yes, milord. There’s a pair o’ th’ biggest boys I ever seen. Well fed from birthin’, I’d wager.”

“No one you know, then?” Lian asked, trying to put the sailors’ earlier cruelty out of his mind.

The goblin snorted. “Ye humans think we poor boggles all know each other, don’ ye, milord? There be more o’ us than ye humans.”

The larger of the two goblins shouted to Snog in Govlikel. Gem translated,
Why you hanging around a scuzzball human like that?
She then commented,
Also, the dialect they use is heavily accented, so they must be from some distance away.

Snog replied in Dunshor, “I’d ask ye th’ same, f’t’weren’t f’ those big pigstickers!” He pointed at the ballista. The two goblins liked his response, or at least the tone of his voice, and laughed lustily.

Lian, who didn’t think that Snog’s comment was particularly humorous, nodded to them curtly, and picked up the pace to a trot toward the town’s only tavern and inn, the Lonely Gull Tavern. Nightmare followed suit, and while Snog had gotten used to the saddle somewhat, he clearly wasn’t happy with the trotting. They passed rough-hewn huts and shacks, the living quarters of the Molans. The architect who had designed and built the landing had not been the same one who had built the town’s buildings. Lian slowed back to a walk once they drew near the buildings.

Lian eyed the tavern warily.
Pretty prestigious name for such a dive
, he thought to Gem. His expectations of the place Kolos had told them about had been something of much higher class than the reality.

The “Gull” was a one-story affair, with no glass in the windows, only heavy shutters dogged securely open. Inside was enough space for well over a hundred patrons, with a bar that curved around the outer wall on two sides, and about two dozen tables. Huge kegs were stacked at the back of the bar, as well as shelves containing bottles of stouter stuff, locked in a wire-frame cabinet. One of the kegs had a throwing axe embedded in it, and there was a slow trickle of ale around the weapon. Lian could imagine why the tavernkeeper hadn’t removed it.