Vitiosi Dei (Heritage of the Blood Book 2) (34 page)

             
How is it that you do that?
The voice that intruded on his thoughts was not that of Dauntless, but a stronger, more feminine voice.

              “I’m not sure. I have only been able to do it for a little while now. Though I think I have been doing it while I sleep for a while longer than that.”

             
It seems to be much like our own ability to communicate, but on a much deeper scale,
Dauntless sent.

              “You seemed so peaceful just a moment ago,” Pershanti said. “What were you doing?”

              “I was…” He stared at his hands trying to figure out how to describe what he had been doing.

             
He was delving his mind into the ground. It was rather impressive to watch. He was even able to tell that the water that runs beneath us is not clean.
From around the corner came an impressive figure. Half again the size of Dauntless, Troublefinder's mother had a white coat that was zig-zagged with silver streaks.

              The boy stood and bowed his head respectfully. “Hello, I am sorry to invade your home.”

              “Likewise,” Pershanti said with a bow of his own.

             
Nonsense, you have saved the life of my kit, you are not intruding. I hope that you can find a name in your time with us. I am…
Images flashed through his mind. Her staring down a spider three times her size, because the thing had been stealing kits from the village. Slightly larger, she charged into the side of a Twilight Wolf whose pack surrounded the annoying little male that wouldn’t stop following her. Fully grown, she faced down two female Quaelyne after challenging the council for the right to lead her own tribe.
...Relentless.

“Thank you,” the boy replied.

Tonight, you shall meet the other members of the tribe, and tomorrow we shall begin to repay you for all that you have done, and will do.
Relentless’s statement had the ring of prophecy to it that sent a shiver down the boy’s spine.

First Eighthday

Siniquity

              “Ah, Temendri, I was just beginning to wonder if you were ever going to come back,” Yandarian said looking up from one of the dozens of reports that were arrayed across his desk. “What do you have to report?”

              “It’s the beautiful weather we’ve been having; snow up to your knees makes traveling interesting. Things were alright closer to the Blade’s Edge, but as we came closer to Siniquity we were accosted by constant blizzards.” Temendri took off his cloak and hung it on the wall. The sections of the manor that were still in disrepair had been sealed off from the rest to allow proper heating.

              “Yes, this weather has made me lose a dozen slaves to frostbite over the last few Eightdays. We really need to find stronger slaves.”

              Temendri didn’t bother to point out that even the strongest slaves would have an issue working outside during a blizzard. He had been working with Yandarian long enough to know that the man had little respect for the lives of those beneath him. If Yandarian wanted his manor to be rebuilt before spring, he would spend as many lives as needed to make that possible. Doing any less than that would be seen as a weakness to the majority of the council and their master. Temendri couldn’t fault his mentor for not wanting to look weak, but he thought there were ways that the old Blood Mage could go about it that wouldn’t cost him the lives of his workers.

              “On our way to deliver the new batch of slaves to the mine, we met up with a party of the Dracairei we sent out, and they gave us two Blood Orcs they had captured. I added them to the workers along with a strange looking Goblin we happened upon.” Temendri walked towards the desk, making sure to stay far enough back that Yandarian couldn’t presume that he was trying to get a look at the papers arrayed in front of him.

              “Orcs? Good, good, perhaps we will have the guards bring them here when the next shift occurs.” The next sentence was said with as much nonchalance as the first, but Temendri caught the slight twitch of Yandarian’s eye that told him that the man was interested in the answer. “And what of this strange Goblin? How was it strange?”

              “Shorter than the rest, but wider. He looked like he had more on his mind than his next meal.”

              “Interesting,” Yandarian said, his eye twitching even more.

              Temendri was certain that he had just told his mentor something that he didn’t want to hear, but whatever it was it seemed he wasn’t going to be privy to the reason why.

              “And what of the boy?” Yandarian said, placing the report he had been pretending to read on the desk in front of him and sitting back in his chair.

              “The block is still firmly in place, and he seems to not know who he is. That cur Walkins said he even taunted the boy a little with no discernable reaction. The story from the guards and the two Goblins that survived is that the boy and the Goblins were slower than the rest to try to run and that ended up saving their lives. The rock fall severed the chain and allowed them to find the rations that one of the guards had left behind, keeping the trio in relatively good condition through their ordeal.”

              “What is your take on that story?”

              “I think it is mostly true, though the Goblins seemed to be treating the boy with a certain reverence. Perhaps he felt something and told them to stop, saving their lives, or more likely he was able to break the chain himself using a tiny portion of his latent abilities.”

              “Why do you say that is more likely?” Yandarian said, steepling his hands in front of him.

              “I had the guards show me the chain, and it looked as if it had been cut by something extremely sharp, or separated on a molecular level.” Temendri shuddered at the thought of the kind of power and precision that would take.

              “Interesting.” Yandarian grinned. “So the boy is still able to use some of his power even through the inhibitors, and with no knowledge of Shaping?”

              “So it seems,” Temendri replied, seeing no reason for the smile. He thought the boy should be put down immediately. Anything with that kind of power was too dangerous to control.

              “I’m to guess that Walkins met up with the Trolls without issue?”

              “Yes. The Troll-kin don’t trust him, but I made it apparent that he was in charge and that his orders were to be followed as long as they didn’t interfere directly with the mission. They are preparing their assault, which should occur on the first Eighthday of the Time of Storms.”

              “Time of Storms.” Yandarian said the words as if they left a bad taste in his mouth. “I do so hate the colloquial manner in which the people of this world went about naming things. I understand their urge to simplify everything and forget about the past, but they took it to a bit of an extreme.”

              Not knowing how to respond to such a statement, Temendri simply nodded in agreement.

              “Oh right, you are not yet privy to that information. Perhaps soon,” Yandarian said with a wicked glint in his eye.

              “Yes,” Temendri said, trying to suppress his excitement. He had heard tidbits of strange information all throughout his training, and it all led to some interesting conclusions, but he would wait until he had more information before he decided which was less outlandish than the rest. “Have you heard from our Princess snatcher?”

              “Yes,” Yandarian said, letting the silence play out between them and once again reaffirming the fact that he was the one in charge in this relationship—as if Temendri hadn’t been completely aware of that fact for every minute of every day since the time he was old enough to walk. “I’m told he met up with our ship in Freeport and should meet up with our team in Verge in the next few Eightdays.”

              Temendri was pleased that everything seemed to be going according to plan, but he could tell that there was something else his mentor had to say. Instead of asking, he simply sat there with a curious expression on his face, knowing the man would tell him when he got around to it.

              “It seems the High Commander himself has been trailing our agent, and we have lost more than a few assets in Freeport.” Yandarian was still smiling, so there must be something else of interest he had to share. After a few moments of silence the old man said. “Well, aren’t you going to ask me why I’m not throwing things, even though several years’ worth of effort and thousands of golds have been blown away with the tide?”

              “I had been wondering…” Temendri said, trying not to roll his eyes.

              “It’s because not only were most of the assets lost easily replaceable in a rat’s den like Freeport, but also because the man who reported to me told me the High Commander was on a ship less than a day behind our agent.” The wicked glint returned to Yandarian’s eyes. “He’ll be a day or two behind our agent when he gets to Verge. Two of the Dracairei there will travel with the agent and the Princess, and the other six will wait to remove the exalted High Commander’s head.”

              “Six?” Temendri said. “I thought we sent a dozen?” He regretted the question the moment it left his lips.

              Yandarian’s eye began to twitch and his smile slipped slightly. “Yes, well, there were complications.” He threw a piece of paper in Temendri’s direction. Temendri picked it up and began to read the missive quietly.

Engaged then unknown unit outside forest edge of Verge.

One combatant dead, three captured, two evaded capture.

Four Dracairei killed in initial engagement.

Unit identified as Vigilantes.

Four members of unit whereabouts unknown.

Enemy killed in action:

Corporal Jameson; Human, Male

Enemies captured:

Sergeant Mcdowell; Dwarf, Male

Removed from combat by multiple puncture wounds.

Elandria Nightwind; Elf, Female

No longer a threat, right arm amputated during combat.

Rundig Stormhammer; Dwarf, Male

Removed from combat by dozens of puncture wounds.

Has not yet succumbed to poison, recommend study if survives.

Enemies identified but not captured:

Warren (Surname unknown); Human, Male

Trenton Grimbash; Half-Ogre, Male

Both targets fled into forest, current whereabouts unknown.

Half-Ogre hit by several bolts, likely non-combat operational.

Squad members not present at engagement:

Za’kereth and Za’erath; Grey Elven twins, Male

Former members of the Nightshade clan.

Bredwin Stoutheart; Dwarf, Male

Drake Dearborn; Human, Male

              “I see,” Temendri said, raising his eyebrow. “So there are six potential allies for the High Commander in the engagement zone, five if the Half-Ogre is indeed out of the fight?”

              “Unlikely,” Yandarian said. “Bredwin and Drake have not been seen with the unit for some time, and are believed killed in action, or cycled out.”

              “Oh good, then they only need to worry about three or four members of an elite squad of Protectorate Knights,” Temendri said, knocking the smile completely off his mentor’s face.

              Yandarian looked towards the top left drawer of his desk, where Temendri knew the old bastard kept a vial of his blood, but the old Mage seemed to calm down a moment before he reached for the drawer.

              “Yes, there are potentially three combatants left in the zone of engagement. If they attempt to rescue the prisoners, they will most likely die or be captured in the process. If for some reason they wait until the High Commander arrives to assist, they will still be outnumbered and at the very least lose a few more members, and the High Commander will be delayed or killed in action. Either way, it is a win-win for us.” Yandarian tried to assume a relaxed position once again but failed miserably. “We may lose most of our current Dracairei, but when the Princess arrives, it will have all been worth it.”