Shadow Dagger

Note: First of all, I want to say how touched I was by the outpouring of support after my last chapter. I was given new determination and enthusiasm. I don't care about views or votes now. I am writing for all of you! Now for the bad news...I bet some of you were probably thinking that the delay in posting this chapter came because I said I wanted to finish the story before posting. Well, what is it that they say about best laid plans? Personal issues cropped up and I was not at home to continue writing.

However, everything has been taken of and I will be writing like a speed demon. Expect the next few chapters to come quickly. I am really excited about where this story is going. I hope you are too. Once again, thanks to all of your support!

***

"Where is he?" Sophina asked, for what had to be the tenth time. She paced around the room in a furious temper.

"Will you sit down?" Ashford asked in exasperation.

Sophina ignored him, as she had done all day. She hated being trapped like this. The lack of windows and the disorientation of time were wearing her thin. She had not been outside since the night before. Now she had no idea what time it was or where Jon was.

Damn him!

She nearly growled out loud as she completed yet another circuit around the living room. The fact that she spent a sleepless night next to Evelyn already put her in a bad mood. Her worry for her was overwhelming. She needed to see the sun and feel the wind on her face.

Instead, she felt helpless and trapped and hunted. She was a prisoner of circumstance. Jon had come back from his meeting with Marcus looking pale. Then he said he had business to take care of and warned them to not even think about leaving. He took off without another word.

"What is he planning?" she growled to herself. "He is making us prisoners! I have been in these same stinking clothes for too long now. The God knows if I will ever be able to see another bathhouse or steam room again!"

Ashford sighed. "Will you calm down? He will be back; then in the days ahead, if you live that long, you will wish for this quiet day again with all your heart."

She laughed bitterly. "Do you really think dying out there is worse than being trapped in here, with no way out or any idea what's going on out there?"

He shook his head. "Sometimes I forget what it's like to be so young. How old are you?"

She folded her arms beneath her breasts and gave him a level look. "Twenty-six," she finally said, her eyes daring him to make fun of her.

"That's what I thought. Listen, girl, age breeds patience. I am 200 years old and I finally know the true value of patience. But sometimes life forces a person to adapt early. So sit down, shut up, and enjoy what peace you can."

Sophina bristled at the word "girl" and listened to the rest of his speech with gritted teeth. She vented her anger now. "I will have you know that I have experienced more in twenty-two years than most soldiers have experienced in fifty. I have stood ankle-deep in blood-soaked mud and listened to the wails of dying men, many of them friends that stood shoulder to shoulder with me for the whole damn war. I have killed at an age most girls are still playing with dolls. I have-"

"Peace!" Ashford shouted, holding out his hand. "I get it, alright? Look...why don't you go check on Evelyn?"

Sophina felt her anger drain away. She collapsed down in a chair and rested her forehead on her hands. "I can't!" she whispered desperately.

"Why not?"

Sophina stared at the floor between her hands and searched for an answer. "I can't...I don't know how to help her. I've tried everything to bring her back. But she just lays there and stares vacantly at nothing, like there is nothing inside of her. I don't know what to do...I am so lost." She blinked back tears.

I won't let him see my cry! I need to be strong.

"Evelyn is beyond your help," Jon replied, coming down the stairs.

Sophina looked up. Jon threw off his cloak and sank down into a chair. He grabbed a bottle of wine from the table next to him and poured himself a glass. He leaned his head back and took a sip. His face was grim. Sophina feared with all her heart anything that could make Jon Laurent worried.

"What the hell is going on?" Ashford barked. He leaned forward in his seat to address him. "Where have you been? What did that beggar tell you?"

Sophina scowled and wiped her eyes.

I won't be afraid!

"Forget that, I want to know what you meant about Evelyn."

Jon looked at Ashford with an ice-cold stare. "His name is Marcus. You would do well to remember that."

Ashford looked away from that stare and mumbled, "Well, where have you been?"

Jon didn't answer either of them right away. He slowly drank his wine and stared into the fire. Finally, he said, "Evelyn lost her soul-mate. Soul-mates are very rare and not much is known about that bond. But the one thing that is well known is that a person who suffers the death of their soul-mate never recovers from it. They simply...exist. They very quickly waste away and die."

Sophina gasped. "That's horrible! Why would anyone ever want to enter into that kind of bond?"

Jon turned his head toward her. She saw so much ancient pain in those eyes that she almost winced. "Sometimes people don't have a choice. If you ever find your soul-mate, you are drawn to them like a moth to flame...no matter that the fire will consume you." He turned back toward the fire that was burning happily in the fireplace. Sophina thought he stared longingly into it, as though he wished he were that moth that had the courage to fly so close to the flames.

He speaks from experience,

Sophina suddenly realized.

Did he have a soul-mate? No...he said a person can't survive the death. What then?

She shook her head.

That man is clothed in secrets. To know one of his secrets would unravel them all.

"What can we do for her?"

"I will try to figure something out," he replied. He drained his glass of wine and poured another one.

"Why do you care?" Ashford asked.

Sophina glanced at him, surprised. He sounded genuinely interested.

He must not be the only one intrigued by Jon's air of mystery.

But Jon spoke as though he didn't hear Ashford. "As to where I have been tonight, you won't like the answer. Marcus brought me grave information. So I went out and gathered more information."

He paused and took a sip of wine. "Raynolt Teryus moves faster that we thought. Grand Master Boltus is dead. Raynolt has already been elected as the new Grand Master."

Sophina closed her eyes and groaned. She looked up again and saw Ashford sitting back in his chair, stunned. He opened his mouth several times before finally croaking, "What? How?"

"Boltus was murdered last night when we were attacked. The official word is that the Magi Victus are responsible for his death as well as the deaths of Darrius Northwood and Edmund Defoure."

Sophina rubbed her temples and tried to sort through all the new information. She hated this kind of thinking; she was a simple soldier and cared nothing for politics. "And I suppose they blame us, as well."

Jon shook his head. "Actually, they did us a favor. Raynolt is more devious than I thought. Or I should say Sanje is. Somehow he convinced a Magi Victus to turn himself in to the Magi, who then blamed a Magi named Halas Winstrum for hiring them to assassinate Boltus."

Ashford sat up with a jolt. "Halas? They conspired to lay the blame on Halas? But why?"

"From what I understand, Halas is somewhat of a power player in your guild, am I right?'

Ashford's eyes widen in shock. "I understand now! Yes, you are right. Halas would have been the main competition for Raynolt. In fact, knowing how some of the council members feel about Raynolt, I would bet that Halas might have won. But how did he convince the council that Halas conspired against them? Don't tell me they took that Magi Victus at his word!"

Jon snorted. "You should know better than that. They found Daminus' body. They made it look like he had been killed by magecraft and then planted all the evidence needed to convict Halas for his murder. Daminus would have been the leading candidate for the Grand Master position. You Magi are so ambitious that no one thought twice about the possibility of a Magi daring to hire the Magi Victus to assassinate the Grand Master."

Sophina tried her best to keep up, but the conversation was quickly getting away from her. "I don't understand. If nobody really liked Raynolt, did why did they elect him?"

It was Ashford who answered her. "Because there was nobody strong enough to stand up to him. We Magi tend to defer to the most powerful members. All it would take is one vote to open the flood-gates."

"And now Raynolt moves quickly to declare war on the Magi Victus," Jon continued. "As of this moment, he is in the palace with King Reynar."

Ashford put his face in his hands and moaned. Sophina looked between Jon and Ashford, trying desperately to keep up. "But...he can't just do that right?"

Jon gave her a pitying look. "The Grand Master and the King have absolute power when it comes to war. The council has no say. The Grand Master is suppose to speak with the voice of the council in these matters."

"But the King will refuse, won't he? Raynolt can't touch him; Ashford's shield is still protecting him, right?"

Jon nodded. "Yes, but without the council and the support of the Grand Master, Raynolt can all but imprison the King and force him to go along with whatever he desires. Raynolt will make sure to remove any potential ally that might come to the King's defense. The King will be alive, yes, but completely powerless."

Sophina sat in stunned silence.

That man has seized power so fast...I hate politics!

"What does he want? Why is he doing all this?"

Ashford laughed. "You mean, besides the desire for power?"

"It can't be that simple! Can it?" She looked hesitantly toward Jon.

Jon took a moment to think about his answer. "Power is certainly a powerful motive...but no, I think there is more to this. Why is Sanje working with him? Why is he willing to sacrifice the Magi Victus? And what is his goal?"

Sophina shook her head. "All of this is going to give me a headache."

Jon laughed softly. "You aren't the only one. Sometimes I long for the simpler days when you saw your enemy on the battlefield and tried your best to kill them before they killed you."

Sophina grinned. "Now you are speaking my language."

"Can we get back to the topic at hand?" Ashford grunted. "What are we going to do? We can't resume our lives until Raynolt is dead and the threat to the King is laid to rest."

"Can't you...just take care of him?" Sophina asked, looking at Jon.

"Thank you for the compliment. But I'm not all powerful, I'm afraid. Even I can't take out the whole Emporium to get to him. And as long as I am alive, he will be sure to walk around with extra protection."

Sophina grimaced and nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, I guess I got carried away...but what about Sanje? Can't you get rid of him?"

Jon laughed. "I would love too, believe me. However, I doubt Sanje will surface anywhere I can find him. We Magi Victus are very good at staying in the shadows."

"But isn't he the Master of your guild? Can't you stage an attack on your hideout? No Magi Victus would be able to stop you," Ashford added.

Jon shook his head, bemused. "The fact that Sanje is still alive should tell you something, shouldn't it? There is no hideout; we aren't stupid enough to gather in one place for the Magi to wipe us out. The Master has a way of communicating with every member. And when we do need to gather, a temporary location is chosen for that specific meeting. Otherwise, we never see each other."

"There is absolutely no place that the Magi Victus gather?" Ashford pressed.

Jon swirled the wine in his glass, buying time to think. "There is one place, but not even I will disturb that place," Jon finally said. He looked and saw the frown on Ashford's face. "Some things are still sacred, even to me. Drop it."

They digested this statement in silence. "What we need is a way to bring them to us," Sophina said musingly.

Like that's possible...

"But what we need to do first is to rescue King Reynar," Ashford added.

"Actually, what we need to do first is find a bathhouse," Sophina said, grinning.

Ashford rolled his eyes and Jon smiled. "You will need disguises first," Jon replied. "How attached are you to your blonde hair?" he asked Sophina.

Sophina grabbed the ends of her hair and groaned.

***

Raynolt could only stare at King Reynar in stunned silence.

I don't believe it! It's impossible!

Reynar held out the piece of toast for a moment longer before shrugging his shoulders. "If you aren't going to have any toast then, please, sit down and join me. We have much to discuss."

Reynar's serving man pulled out the chair directly across from Reynar. Raynolt was still too shocked to move. Everything he had worked for was falling to pieces.

All my plans...wasted.

The servant quirked his eyebrow at Raynolt and then shared a small smile with Reynar. "I believe you have completely caught the poor Grand Master off guard, my lord."

Reynar chuckled and took a bite from his toast. He talked around the toast in his mouth as he said, "Please, Raynolt, have a seat. Looking up at you is putting a kink in my neck. And release your magic, please."

Raynolt shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the cobwebs that clung to it. He dropped rather gracelessly into the chair offered to him. He cleared his throat to speak, hoping that the tremble in his voice was not noticeable. "King Reynar...I...don't know what to say..."

Why is he acting so calmly? He must know that I have been trying to kill him. What is he after?

Before Raynolt released his power, he took the opportunity to study the king. He saw what he expected to see; a tightly woven magical shield. To most eyes, it would look like a very complex series of runes. But Raynolt saw deeper; he saw how the shield was woven of two different set of runes. It was...beautiful, really.

Reynar finished his piece of toast and wiped his mouth with an elaborately embroidered cloth napkin. He set his forearms on the table and gave Raynolt a firm look. "I know you have been trying to assassinate me, Raynolt."

Raynolt said nothing. He felt sweat trickle down his cheek. Reynar paused for a moment before continuing. "I have kept my eye on you for quite a while now. You are a man whose reach will always exceed his grasp. You really thought you could dispose of a royal line that goes back 3,000 years in order to make yourself king? A royal line that was decreed by the God to govern the people of this country?"

He paused again and this time Raynolt knew he expected an answer.

How should I play this? Are my plans really dashed or is there some hope left?

He had no time to think. He would have to trust his instincts. "Do you really believe that the God came down from the heavens to declare your bloodline king of all men?"

Reynar smiled, as though he was expecting that very question. "And what would it mean if you disposed of me and took the crown?"

Raynolt shifted in his chair, feeling his fear slowly fade. Reynar spoke as though he were truly interested in his opinion. Raynolt suddenly knew that his life was not yet in danger. "It would mean that it was nothing more than myth and legend that made your line the ruler of men."

Reynar frowned thoughtfully as he plucked a grape from a bowl on the table. He chewed the grape slowly as he studied Raynolt. Raynolt shifted again, already hating that penetrating gaze. "And thus you would destroy the foundation that the Magi have crafted over the last 3,000 years. The people obey our rule because they believe in our divine right to govern them with absolute power. Dispose of me and the country will crumble."

Raynolt frowned. "Your logic is flawed; we rule through fear. We control the very element of creation. The people accept our rule because they know we would crush them if they ever rebelled."

Reynar laughed softly to himself. "That's your problem, Raynolt; you could never see past your own ambition. If you knew your history, you would share my point of view."

"I've studied the histories," Raynolt snapped angrily. "What event are you referring to?"

Reynar sat back in his chair and spread his hands out. "I speak of the founding of Astuari, of course. Do you know what this country was like before the Order of 12?"

"Of course; I'm not an idiot. This country was ruled by various Warlords."

Reynar lifted his finger, as though he had scored a point. "Precisely! The Warlords ruled with fear. And look what happened to them."

Raynolt leaned forward in his seat and lifted his own finger. "And they would still rule if it were for the fluke discovery of magic."

"Now your logic is flawed, Raynolt. The Warlords were not toppled from the discovery of magic; they were toppled because the people rose up against them."

Reynar smiled and popped another grape into his mouth.

Did he invite me here for a philosophical debate?

Raynolt suppressed his annoyance and changed the subject. "What do you want from me? It's clear you aren't keeping me alive just to engage in this silly debate."

Reynar sighed. "Truly, I miss conferring with an equal. I find my days filled with...boredom. You disappoint me, Raynolt."

Raynolt felt his face flush. "I am more than your equal!" he spat.

Reynar shook his head. "You lack true intelligence. Did you see how easily I bound you when you came in?"

Raynolt hadn't forgotten. His face flushed deeper. "You...used some type of trickery unknown to me, that's all."

"No, I used my brain. Do you think I would have this shield that is constantly protecting me and never take the time to study it? I discovered that protection spells have some gaping holes, once you know what to look for." He sighed deeper and sank back in his chair. "I already miss Boltus. He wasn't my equal, either, but he was a lot closer than you are."

Raynolt stood up, knocking over his chair in the process. "You dare insult me? You may have surprised me for now, but it will never happen again! Once I get rid of Ashford, I will kill you myself!"

Reynar's dark eyes hardened. His gaze was as sharp as steel. Raynolt felt his fear come flooding back. Reynar stood up slowly and leaned over the table. "Sit down, before I decide I don't need you."

Raynolt quickly picked up his chair with shaking hands and sat down. He had never felt a more powerful presence than the aura Reynar gave off now. He could snuff out his life as easily as he could swat a fly.

Reynar sat back down in his chair. "Now, let's discuss the reason why you are still alive. You brought a document with you, did you not?"

Raynolt felt yet another shock.

How does he know all of this?

"Yes...I did."

Reynar held out his hand. "Well?"

Raynolt reached into the pocket on his robe and pulled out a thick piece of parchment rolled up into a scroll. Reynar took it from him and unrolled it. His eyes shifted back and forward as he read it.

Reynar smiled and set the document on the table. "So, war with the Magi Victus? I suppose you came here to threaten me into signing it, didn't you?"

Raynolt swallowed before speaking. "That was the plan."

Reynar nodded. He looked up at his servant standing in the corner of the room. "Sereph, my quill please."

Raynolt looked between them, confused. His confusion increased when the servant brought a long, feathered quill and some ink. Reynar flattened the parchment on the table and dipped his pen in the ink.

"You're signing?" Raynolt asked in disbelief.