Shadow Dagger Ch 11

Note: Hey, everyone! I'm betting that you are wondering what the hell happened to me, huh? Well, I had a terrible tradegy in my family. I don't want to talk about it, but let's just say I had no desire to write for a long time. But life goes on and here I am. I'm sorry about the delay in bringing you this chapter. Once I sat down and started writing, I must have gone through several revisions. I am revealing alot of secrets in this chapter and I wanted to get it just right. I hope you enjoy it!

***

Sophina held Ashford's head in her lap and grimaced against the wave of despair that threatened to overwhelm her. She had ridden through the streets of Astuari as if pursued by fire-breathing demons, only to find that Jon hadn't yet returned.

She tried desperately to find the hidden switch that opened the false wall, hoping that Jon was somehow inside his house and unaware of her presence, but her search was futile. Jon was not here; Sophina could feel it. Ashford's one hope was gone. So she had pulled Ashford from the horse and held him as she sat in the rubble of the abandoned house.

"I'm sorry, Ash," Sophina whispered, staring down sorrowfully at Ashford's face. The blood from the wound on the back of his bald head was drying and sticking to her thigh. His right arm was twisted at an unnatural angle. She had pulled back his tunic to discover deep, purple bruises surrounding his ribs.

He was broken; broken by a man who was supposed to be his best friend.

Why? Why did King Reynar do this? Didn't they grow up together? Ashford protected Reynar with his life!

Sophina shook her head. She just didn't understand anything anymore. Ashford and his friends had put their lives at risk to protect Reynar. Then, earlier in the day, Reynar had acted like Ashford was the mud underneath his boot. He even claimed that he no longer needed Ashford's shield.

He said he didn't need it anymore because Jon was captured...

Sophina refused to believe it. Nobody could capture Jon Laurent. He was just delayed, that's all. He would be back shortly.

She struggled to control her emotions. Her brain still couldn't wrap around the events of the day. Evelyn's decision to go with King Reynar still shocked her. Sophina felt stupid for not seeing how Evelyn hadn't really recovered from Daminus' death. Reynar played on Evelyn's emotions perfectly.

Most of all, Evelyn's accusation that Jon was nothing more than an assassin bothered Sophina the most. She couldn't reconcile the image of the man who spent a month teaching her how to fight with the man who killed for a living. The problem was that Jon

did

kill Evelyn's husband. How would Sophina feel, if Jon had murdered Evelyn?

Ashford stirred feebly in her arms. Sophina cursed herself for letting her thoughts drift off while Ashford lay dying in her arms. "Ashford?" she asked gently.

Ashford twitched and then lay still again. His face was pale and covered in sweat. Sophina laid her hand on his chest and felt his heartbeat. It was very weak and slow. He was near the brink of death.

"I'm sorry," she apologized again. She had never felt so helpless. She had come to rely on Jon to save the day. Now he was nowhere to be found and the only hope for Ashford was the healing offered by Magi.

So this is how it ends?

Sophina thought sadly. Without the protection offered by Jon and Ashford, Raynolt's men would find her in no time. Or were they Reynar's men? She didn't know and honestly didn't care. She always hated politics and the power struggles that come with it.

The sound of shuffling feet snapped her head up. She squinted her eyes against the fading sun and looked out through the broken wall of the house. A person was slowly approaching the house. Sophina gently removed Ashford's head from her lap and got up. She drew her sword silently. She made her way to the doorway and raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sun.

The person slowly came closer. He appeared to be holding a bundle over his shoulder...

Gasping, Sophina sheathed her sword ran toward the figure. Once she got close enough to clearly see the man, she felt her heart clench. It was Marcus, the beggar Jon talked to. He was carrying Jon over his shoulder.

"Jon!" Sophina screamed.

Marcus stopped and sighed wearily. "Damn me to the nine hells, this man is heavy! Do you think you could...?"

Sophina didn't even bother answering. She grabbed Jon by the arm and slung him over onto her shoulder. Marcus was right; Jon was surprisingly heavy. "Is he alive?" she asked desperately.

Marcus put his hands on his back and stretched. He sighed and nodded at her. "He's alive, but we need to get him inside."

Sophina tried to keep the panic from her voice. "Will he wake up anytime soon? Our friend is gravely injured and needs Jon's healing right away."

Marcus grunted. "Jon won't know what day it is when he wakes up."

Sophina nearly dropped Jon as despair swept over her. "Then it's too late." She felt hot tears sting the sides of her eyes.

"More temptation, God?" Marcus mumbled under his breath. Sophina cast a wary glance at him. She knew the beggar to be delusional, but was he violent as well?

"Temptation?" Sophina asked cautiously.

Marcus gave her a sharp look. When Sophina only shifted Jon's weight on her shoulder and stared back at him, his eyes softened. "I...I may be able to help your friend."

With that cryptic statement, he began walking toward the house. Sophina hurried to catch up with him, carefully keeping Jon from falling off her shoulder. She stared skeptically at Marcus' frightened face. "What do you mean? Are you a physician? Because only magic can help my friend now."

He ignored her question and continued on into the house. He stopped when he spotted Ashford lying on the floor. "I don't even know his path," he whispered. He turned to Sophina with wide, fearful eyes. "What will I change? This is why I don't interact with people!"

Sophina set Jon carefully down on the floor. She turned toward Marcus and grabbed his filthy tunic. "I don't know what in the nine hells you are babbling about, but if you really can help Ashford then get to it!" she snarled, putting her face close to his.

Marcus blinked at her. The fear slowly lifted from his face. "I can see why he likes you," he whispered.

Sophina opened her mouth angrily but Marcus quickly cut her off. "I can help him," he assured her. He had to pry Sophina's hands off of his tunic.

"Sorry," she muttered, stepping back.

Marcus knelt down by Ashford's head and laid his hand on his forehead. Marcus closed his eyes and was silent for several moments. Sophina started to doubt his sanity. "Are you sure you can help him? Are you...are you a Magi?"

Marcus opened his eyes slowly. Sweat bathed his forehead. "No...I never had that title."

Sophina was really beginning to worry now. "Then what are you?"

Marcus grimaced and removed his hand from Ashford's forehead. "I'm something else," he replied distractedly. "Your friend is hanging on by a thread. I'm going to have to do this fast."

"Do what--" Sophina began, but then stepped back in shock.

Golden light shone from Marcus' eyes. "You might want to close your eyes," he said. His voice had transformed. He no longer sounded like a babbling madman; his voice was deep and powerful.

Sophina couldn't look away. She had no idea what was going on. Magi's eyes always glowed silver. She had no idea what this was. But she knew it was powerful; she could feel it deep in her bones.

Marcus began to sing; that was the best way Sophina could describe it. His words were music itself. His voice contained the growth of a tree, the falling of a leaf, the splatter of raindrops; it contained

everything.

She quickly understood why he wanted her to close her eyes. A golden nimbus of light surrounded Ashford's body. No, it seemed to come from

within

Ashford. It grew brighter and brighter until Sophina was forced to close her eyes and turn away.

Marcus' voice continued to fill her soul. She wanted to weep from the beauty of it. She felt hope, love, life, and dozens of other positive emotions pouring out from her soul. She wanted to dance to it. She needed to dance to it; the power begged a response from her. It filled her mind and grew louder and more beautiful. She wanted to explode with the joy she felt from it. She wanted to--

And just like that, the light was gone. The music dimmed and faded away. Everything came rushing back to her; the good and the bad. She dropped to her knees and tried her best not to weep. She felt so terribly alone all of a sudden.

"I'm sorry," she heard a voice say. She felt a hand pat her shoulder. "I had forgotten what it was like for normal people to be around it."

"I want it back," she begged, her voice cracking like a child's.

"It would have destroyed you, had it gone on longer," the voice said sadly.

She didn't care. It would have been worth losing her life just to bathe in that music one more time. "Your friend will live," the voice offered her.

My friend?

She picked up her head and saw the man the voice was referring to. Memory came back slowly.

Ashford!

She crawled on all fours and grabbed his face. His skin color was normal. She turned his head; the wound was gone. His arm was straight and the bruises underneath his tunic had vanished. She turned and stared at Marcus, disbelieving. "I...don't know how to thank you. Who are you?"

Marcus rubbed his face. Heavy bags hung under his eyes and sweat dripped off his face. "The time for answers will come shortly. For now, take your friend inside and put him to bed."

Sophina hesitated. "What about Jon?"

Marcus looked out past the ruined walls and toward the street. "I will bring him in shortly," he said, never taking his eyes off of the street.

Sophina cradled Ashford's body and lifted him up. "What about the secret entrance? I can't open it."

Marcus waved his hand distractedly. "It's open."

A low rumbling sound came from behind Sophina. She turned around and was shocked to see the wall lowering to the ground. The hidden staircase was revealed. "Thanks," she said, amazement filling her voice.

Marcus was already walking out of the house. Sophina hesitated at the top of the stairs before shrugging her shoulders and carefully descending down the steps. She would just have to trust that Marcus hadn't lost his mind again. Carefully cradling Ashford's body, she made her way into Jon's house.

***

Jachal Thane congratulated himself for what had to be the hundredth time since King Reynar had let Ashford and the woman leave. Jachal didn't know what was going on between Reynar and Ashford, but what he did know was that Raynolt would greatly reward the man who brought him Ashford.

Jachal, knowing where the true power lay, took it upon himself to gather two other Magi loyal to Raynolt and followed the woman carrying Ashford. They used their magic to conceal themselves as they very carefully followed the woman through the city.

To Jachal's surprise, the woman led them into Beggar's Hell. She rode up to a derelict building and took Ashford down from the horse and carried him inside. Since most of the walls were a crumbling ruin, Jachal, carefully concealed in an alley across the street, was able to see that she merely sat on the floor and held Ashford's head in her lap.

"It appears she is waiting for someone," Jachal commented more to himself than his two companions.

Krysia nodded her head. "I think Raynolt was right; Ashford and Evelyn must have aligned themselves with Jon Laurent. Why else would King Reynar have attacked Ashford like that?"

Jachal shook his head. "I never thought I would see the day when a Magi would team up with a Magi Victus."

Gero, the other Magi Jachal had brought, snorted in derision. "Is it really that hard to believe? We have hired them to do our bidding for centuries now. Isn't that the same thing as working with them?"

"This is different," Jachal growled. "They've set themselves against us. It's as if they turned their backs on our guild. And to consort with Jon Laurent? No Magi worth anything would ever sink that far."

Krysia grunted in agreement. She always agreed with him. "So, should we wait to see who is coming for her?"

"It shouldn't be long now; Ashford doesn't look like he will make it much longer." Jachal grimaced; if Ashford died, Raynolt might not care any longer who had found him.

Gero seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "Should we go get him before it's too late?"

Jachal shook his head. "No, let's wait a few more minutes--"

"There's no need," Krysia interrupted, pointing down the street. A man was walking slowly down the street. He appeared to be carrying a body on his shoulders...

"Who is he carrying?" Jachal wondered out loud.

Krysia shrugged. Gero muttered a few words of the ancient language and squinted toward the man. "I don't recognize him," he finally said.

They watched as the woman came running out of the building toward the man. "Jon!" the woman screamed.

Jachal exchanged incredulous looks with Krysia and Gero. "You don't think that's..."

"Jon Laurent," Krysia breathed in wonder. Her eyes were opened wide in shock. "I thought King Reynar said he was captured."

"He looks...ordinary," Gero whispered in amazement.

Jachal couldn't believe his luck.

To think, I came here looking for Ashford and now Jon Laurent has fallen into my lap! I'm going to be Raynolt's right-hand man after this!

"Let's take them!" he whispered excitedly.

Krysia and Gero exchanged nervous looks. "Don't you think we should report back to Raynolt?" Krysia asked hesitantly.

"Are you crazy? Look at him! Jon Laurent is clearly unconscious! Do you think some woman and old man are a match for a 9th Tier, a 7th Tier, and a 6th Tier Magi?"

Krysia's face relaxed as she smiled. "Of course not; I was just scared that Jon Laurent might still be conscious. But I can see him better now. Let's go for it."

Jachal turned toward Gero, who still looked unconvinced. "Come on, Jachal, let's just play this one safe. I'm sure Raynolt will reward us just as much for giving him the location of Laurent's hideout as he would for bringing them back ourselves."

Jachal clenched his fist tight to keep from striking the man. He watched impatiently as the old man and woman went inside the building. He turned back to Gero. "Don't be a coward Gero! You wouldn't have aligned yourself with Raynolt if you didn't want some glory to come your way, right?"

Gero glanced away. "I don't know..."

"We don't need him," Krysia snapped. She directed a look of contempt toward Gero. "We can do this ourselves, Jachal."

Jachal smiled as Gero's chest swelled up in anger. "I didn't say I wasn't going to do it! I just don't like to rush into things. But I will do it, ok?"

Krysia winked at Jachal as they turned back to look at the house. "Ok, so are we all ready?" Jachal asked rhetorically. "I think the first thing--"

"Look!" Krysia yelled, grabbing Jachal's arm.

A bright golden light was emanating from the building. Jachal had no idea what was going on. "What in the nine hells is that?"

They shielded their eyes as the light grew brighter and brighter. Finally, the light vanished as rapidly as it had appeared. Jachal blinked repeatedly to dispel the flashes of light in his eyes. He squinted toward the building. He could see that Ashford was still lying on the floor. The old man was talking to the woman.

"I don't have a good feeling about this," Gero whispered.

"What was that?" Krysia asked. "It wasn't magic. I have never seen light shine like that. Was it a lantern?"

"Who cares?" Jachal growled. In truth, he was shaken. He had no idea what that light was but he was sure it wasn't a lantern. For a second there, he thought he could feel something in his mind. He shook his head. "Things are still the same in there. Let's do this before it's too late."

"What is he doing now?" Krysia asked suddenly.

The old man had walked out of the building and into the middle of the road. His head was bent and he was looking down at his hands. "It doesn't matter," Jachal replied. "Let's just take him out while he's by himself."

Krysia nodded. Her eyes glowed silver and she began to chant. She raised her hand but then dropped it slowly. Jachal looked up. The old man raised his head and stared directly at them.

His eyes shone golden.

"Impossible," Jachal whispered.

The old man began singing. At least, that's what it sounded like to Jachal. His words wove golden threads of runic symbols toward them. Jachal had never seen runes so intricately written. He barely had a moment to panic before the runes reached him and settled into his body. After that, all his worries were wiped away.

He felt like a newborn baby. The old man's song reverberated in his mind and in his soul, creating images of life and birth and renewal. He dropped to his knees in awe-struck wonder. He heard Krysia and Gero weeping and laughing at the same time. Jachal didn't even know that he was doing the same thing.

The words continued to pour through his soul. Jachal wiped tears of blood from his eyes. The song was eternal; Jachal knew this instinctively. He was carried on a river of creation that began long ago and would go on for all of eternity. Jachal knew the history of the stones beneath his knees. He knew where the wind that touched his cheek came from. He knew everything.

Jachal wished the song would never end. He continued to laugh and weep even as he coughed up blood. He gloried in the song as the pressure built up in his mind. He felt his cock harden in his pants. He felt the orgasm that shook his body as the song reached a crescendo.

He felt the faint pop in his head and the warm gush of blood from his nose and knew no more. The song carried him home.

***

Raynolt paced the rooftop in long, furious strides. He stopped and leaned his hands against the edge of the rooftop. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "How do you lose a dead body?" he asked through gritted teeth.

He turned around and glared at Sanje. Sanje's expression remained neutral. "He must of had help," he replied evenly.

"Of course he had help!" Raynolt roared, spit flying from his mouth. "Dead bodies just don't go wandering off by themselves!"

Sanje blinked. "Don't worry, we will find out who took the body. I have my men searching the entire area as we speak."

Raynolt spun around and leaned against the wall again. He stared unseeingly at the ground below.

Laurent's body should have been right there! I should be pissing on his corpse as we speak!

"He should have already been found by now. Your men are useless."

Raynolt turned around and was glad to see Sanje's eye twitching. He had finally upset the man's cool exterior. "My men will have his corpse before the night is through," he said coldly.

"I doubt that," Raynolt sneered. "Regardless, Laurent is dead. We can finally move on to the next stage of the plan."

"The spy has been taken care of?" Sanje asked.

Raynolt nodded. "She's just another casualty in today's chaos. Reynar will no longer be privy to our plans."

Sanje hesitated a moment before speaking. "About our next step...I've heard reports that Ashford Caulston was spotted today."

Raynolt cursed under his breath. It was too much to hope for that there weren't any Magi Victus in the vicinity to witness what happened today. "Yes, it would seem so."

Sanje walked over next to Raynolt and leaned against the wall. They both were silent for several moments. "I heard that Reynar nearly killed him," Sanje finally said.

Raynolt grimaced. "Again, it would seem so."

Sanje sighed and shook his head. "I don't understand it. Why would he turn against the man who was helping him stay alive? Doesn't he need Ashford's shield?"