Test of Innocents: The Shadowed of Gilead, #2

By Frank Wacholtz

A skeletal bone knight stands alone with his nightmare in the crumbling sewers of Meleckireem.   An animated machine, he has no need or even desire to breathe.  Around his sturdy legs, the dark tendrils of violent temptation wrap their inky coils searching for some unrevealed gap in his defenses that they might devour his soul within.

A young man grips the upper yardarm of ship so fast and tall that striking the deck should he slip is only a remote possibility.  The wind lashes at his hair as bruised and bloody hands struggle with knots he only recently tied.  It could be worse.  He could be down on the deck getting pummeled by his best friend.

A small hunter, possibly a woman, seems to almost float beneath the surface of the impossibly high grass as she swings across the tops like a spider skulking through a vast moonlit sea.  Thunder and wind, courtesy of an approaching storm, mask her approach almost completely.  Her prey is unaware and is unable to appreciate the disturbing way her emerald eyes capture the pale light before the sky descends upon him.

A great winged-dragon, a Cho-Whissir, of royal blood hunts on the winds above the cloud shrouded farmlands thoroughly infuriated by the concealing weather.  Something more precious than gold has been taken from her, and she means to get it back.  May the Glorious One help the one responsible, because she intends justice for all involved.

A powerful and malevolent shadowed curses the departing shiny and his so-called “deal”.  The souls are his to keep and expend at whim.  They’ve no right to make such a demand of him.  The blood was going to be spilt anyway.  He kicks one of his useless subordinates after the fleeing human and hurls curses after them both.  It won’t be until later that he realizes the over-confident shiny never specified which.

“Test of Innocents” continues “The Shadowed of Gilead” series in an exciting romp through the world of Choaradar as Castel and his friends make their way ever closer to the Tower of Gilead.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Frank Wacholtz
• Release date: Aug 29, 2013
• ISBN: 9781497767775

Book preview

Test of Innocents

Vol. II of

The Shadowed of Gilead

By Frank S. Wacholtz

Dedication

For Tirzah

Introduction

THE GROUND RULES

Table of Contents

1.  Remember who you are at all times.

2.  Remember who you represent at all times and act accordingly.

3.  Never speak, write or otherwise communicate anything about the nature of Type I.

4.  Do not sell, barter, trade, give or otherwise transfer any unapproved technology.

5.  Never write down anything about the smithing of actium for any reason.

6.  Only one copy of any book may be taken from The Tower proper. 

7.  Return the above mentioned books immediately to Returns upon your return.

8.  Treat your hosts with proper respect and courtesy.

9. Leave all demands of justice to the Rogue Hunters.

excerpt from—The Ground Rules, a mandatory soil-excursion pamphlet

Foreign Exchange Rate

The two almost beautiful eyes watched closely as the hulking and scarred human quietly slid up behind a tree.  The shadowed had orchestrated a coup to empower this wonderfully obsessed human since the more passive animatoid had been damaged only a few weeks ago.  What had ensued was a blood soaked march through the last of the highlands that would impress even his depraved superiors.  A few thousand more lives destroyed and he might even replace one of them.

In a small clearing just up ahead, the bait—a characteristically slim and dark-skinned Tanthris with downward pointed ears named Rhue—was distracting all but two of the Daradrakian Patrol.  However, only one of the three shinys accompanying them was keeping an eye on the sweating figure.  The other two were sentries and knew something foul was afoot.

The navy blue-eyed, black-haired Tanthris, having become a friend of the nigh-vanquished leader, was expendable. Of course, all Alumnir were expendable.  It was just that some were more expendable than others.  The nervous, Tanthris blacksmith with all the crossbows pointed at his head, for example, was only slightly less expendable than the soldiers pointing those same crossbows.  In all the orbits that Mal’eleck had chanced to observe him, the Tanthris had yet to kill anyone other than that one instance of a singly impressive violent murder, which led to his detention at the prison isle of Norta Isla.  The clever Alumnir had been instrumental in the eventual escape, but his uses were running out.  There were also rumors of a shiny visiting him recently.  If nothing else were factored in, that was still a reliable sign things were about to change one way or another for the Tanthris.

On the other hand, the large leader who was quietly loading his pistol was less expendable than every other Alumnir but one in a one-hundred highstride radius.  This simply meant that no effort would be spent to kill him prematurely.  He was just too good a tool to throw carelessly away on a passing whim.

Mal’eleck motioned ever so subtly for his minions to surround the Daradrakian patrol as the swarthy Tanthris was speaking with the patrol leader, a mere sergeant.  No one would miss them too much.  Mahkinoc’s old penchant for working in the shadows had been necessary of late to keep Mal’eleck’s band of Innocents—how he loved that misnomer—from attracting too much attention from the authorities.  The Alumnir had to live if he wanted them to continue down such a favorable path.  Besides, Mal’eleck was sure there would be an opportunity for a splendidly ferocious and bloody last stand once their usefulness had run out.

Oslo, the scarred human, checked his long-barreled pistol and debated whether to hide the bodies by burying them or to leave them as a message.  The shadowed above him was quietly hoping for the former.  It seemed to hurt these Alumnir more to have no news of their loved ones than have proof they were dead.  One of these millennia his curiosity would get the better of him and he’d find out why.  The inevitable promotion would help with that.

Mal’eleck gently planted the suggestion into Oslo’s mind of not bothering to aim at Rhue, there was still a use for him after all. If he died accidentally in the cross fire, it would only be a small loss.  His blood would flow soon enough.  Mal’eleck smiled in anticipation when the ten bandits and their leader began aiming their weapons and choosing their targets with the subtle help of Mal’eleck’s underlings.  It would be like spearing fish in a barrel.

Oslo lowered his pistol and aimed for the sergeant standing almost between himself and Rhue.  Oslo grimaced when he noticed his weapon glinting in a stray beam of light.  Shoot now, Mal’eleck encouraged him for fear of losing the element of surprise. Oslo pulled the trigger.  His scouts fired on cue before the sergeant’s body could even hit the ground.

The Tanthris flung himself to the ground just in time to dodge a few of the errantly released crossbow bolts that had been pointed at him.  Too bad, Mal’eleck mused.  Oslo ducked back behind his tree and prepped another shot after ejecting the remnants of the last one.  He surprised himself by mechanically marking the place they fell in his memory for later retrieval.  Then, Mal’eleck subtly reminded him that Mahkinoc had told him to do that but had never explained why. That was another secret Mal’eleck intended Oslo to weasel out of the disappointing animatoid.  The human suspected it was just to leave less of a trace.

The shadowed was pleased to see the carnage already reaped.  Four soldiers were still trying to fight back.  A fifth was on the ground, bleeding profusely, and would probably be dead shortly.  Two of the shinys had apparently been driven off, but a third remained steadfast in the center of the soldiers over a balled up Rhue.  The shiny directed them even while he defended himself expertly from five of the shadowed’s underlings.  Make that four.

Beneath the particularly vicious shiny, the Tanthris only risked a quick look for his own discarded sword but thought better of it after a word from the powerful shiny.  Coward, Mal’eleck spat and helped Oslo aim for another soldier struggling to reload his crossbow.  Apparently, the patrol had decided that a charge would only get them killed faster.

Oslo gently squeezed the trigger, but the mini-ball was minutely deflected by the unseen messenger between parries, albeit, not by much if the plume of dirt was any indication.  That was the one major drawback of the firearms that the shadowed lamented.  They were more powerful and lethal than a crossbow, but their inaccuracy even without the help of a determined shiny was becoming a liability.

Mal’eleck smiled cruelly when he heard the cry of another soldier as he calmed Oslo’s nerves enough to help him reload.  It wasn’t quite as easy recently as it had been.  The encounters with the dragon of the Eastern Highlands had made for wonderfully fun nightmares, but it seemed to have called up something deep within the other-wise fearless human.  Oslo’s brief, worried look back up toward the pass confirmed it.

There were just two of Mal’eleck’s underlings slowly backing away from the shiny when Mal’eleck looked again.  The three remaining soldiers were raising a makeshift parley flag. The shadowed grinned.  This is too easy.

Hold your fire, Oslo commanded his scouts.  Do you worms intend surrender?

Please, sirs, answered a young soldier standing to his feet and holding his crossbow by two fingers, We surrender.

Set your pathetic weapons down and step forward, Oslo commanded while holding his pistol easily at his side.  And Rhue, you can stand up now.

Yes, sir, grunted the Tanthris, consciously ignoring the fact that his name had been used in front of the enemy.  Rhue stood up slowly and brushed himself off with one hand while keeping the other pressed to the side of his head.  Beside him, the invisible shiny stood almost casually with his flat-bladed spear held at ready.

Are you alright Rhue? One of the scouts asked as he began tying a captive’s hands with the prisoner’s own belt.

One of those bolts grazed me, answered Rhue.  I think I may look a little more like our fearless leader in a few days.  Mal’eleck was subtly pleased to inflict the small pains he could.  With a little attention it might even become infected.

Oslo sat down on a log waiting for his scouts to finish the simple hand binding.  He wouldn’t make them waste their time on more secure measures.  One scout stood behind each of the three men who were placed roughly on their knees before the hulking form of Oslo.  While this was happening, the shiny spoke at last in one of the strangest yet familiar accents Mal’eleck had ever heard, I’m afraid anymore will cost you.

What do you mean? Mal’eleck had an idea what he meant, but he wanted to confirm it.

A life for a life, responded the shiny.  I was instructed to deliver the following message to you.  These three before you are particularly precious in His sight. For each of these you take, He’ll take one of yours.  You do understand the subtleties, yes?

Mal’eleck frowned.  He hadn’t been planning on any exchanges and something told him that the shiny hadn’t moved all his pieces.  Oh, I understand.  You... Mal’eleck finished with a filthy string of curses.

Oslo waited till the men were all on their knees and then stood up.  He must have appeared as a giant to the captured soldiers.  Of course, that had been his plan.  It never hurt to intimidate people you hoped to learn something from.  Not that he would wait long or that there much he needed to know, but why waste a perfectly good opportunity.

Where are you three patrolling out of? Oslo asked plainly and emotionlessly.  Oslo scanned the three men who all looked back with steely eyes.  He gave them five more seconds then stated equally calmly, Kill the one on my left.  There was only time for the man’s eyes to open wide in surprise before he dropped to the ground dead after a quick slash from the knife wielding scout behind him.

That’s one, the messenger calmly announced amid the bloodthirsty whoops of the lesser shadowed.

Let’s try this again, Oslo stated calmly.  No need to yell or scream or even explain why he wanted to know.  He already was fairly sure of the answer. He just wanted to see if the men would tell the truth before he went on to any more pressing questions.  Where are you patrolling out of?  Mal’eleck already guessed the answer, but he wanted his project to know.

One man’s eyes seemed to dart around as if searching for an escape while the other man simply lowered his eyes to the ground.  The flighty one quickly sputtered, Out of, out of Dragon Pass.

You see, that wasn’t as hard as you thought, replied Oslo.  Are there any other patrols around?

The man’s mouth worked a second while his comrade silently implored the man.  Finally, the terrified man squeaked, Yes.

Are they close?

Not really.

How close?

Maybe one within fifteen highstrides.  The other is still back sweeping the highlands.

Did your patrol sweep the highlands?

Yes, the man choked out.  Mal’eleck quietly enjoyed the man’s torment.  Anything to wound the Old Leader was worth the effort.

Found our handiwork I guess, commented Oslo mostly to himself.  He noted that the man nodded in confirmation and swallowed hard.  Do you know who I am?

No, the man whimpered.

That will change.  Kill them both.

What! the terrified soldier exclaimed before the scout behind him slit his throat.

That’s two—and your limit for today, stated the shiny as he moved to protect the other soldier who threw his head back hitting the scout behind him in the crotch.  Oslo couldn’t help but stare in admiration of the man’s determination as he scooped up the dropped knife, knocked the scout off his feet, thrust himself backward to sit on the fallen scout, and buried the knife to the hilt.  The soldier did all that with his hands still tied behind his back.  A split second later, the man was up and starting off into the trees with the shiny trailing him invisibly.  That was no first-orbit soldier.  Oslo recovered himself enough to raise his pistol and squeeze off a reasonably well-aimed shot.

Poisoned, inaccurate weapon, Oslo cursed to himself as the hurled lead struck a tree to the side of the retreating soldier.  Get him, Oslo seethed and motioned the other two scouts after the man.  He didn’t think they would catch the soldier.  It was simply the punishment for standing there like idiots while it happened.

_______

Mahkinoc looked up from under a leafing hardwood tree as the hulking Oslo stepped into the camp carrying a sack over his shoulder.  Seven of the ten scouts who had followed him out earlier with Rhue stepped into the clearing from behind him.  What’s that? the still damaged animatoid asked in a quiet bass.  Mahkinoc’s propulsion system was mercifully still functioning after his last tangle with the bone knight, but his arm sat uselessly beside him despite Rhue’s best efforts over the past several days.

Just some provisions, explained the heavily scarred war leader.  Oslo had lost whatever fat that had clung precariously to his bones during the Warming in the Eastern Highlands.  All that remained was thick corded muscles strewn over a frame big enough for an Insidis.  Don’t worry, old chap.  I didn’t kill any homesteaders this time, Oslo continued with a sarcastic sneer.

You shouldn’t have killed anybody, that first or second time, Mahkinoc shot back in his bass.  Now we have the Daradrak Professional Army looking for us.

Not for a while, Oslo revealed with a knowing smile as he sat down on a log and pulled an unripe apple out of the top of the sack.  We slaughtered that last patrol down to a man.  It will be at least two weeks until they decided something happened and another two till they decide to come looking for us.  We’ll be safely disappeared by then.

Did you find a blacksmith? Mahkinoc’s alto interjected before the bass could complain further.

Nothing more than a farrier, answered Oslo off-handedly.  Relax, old chap.  We’ll find a place Rhue can patch you up, eventually.

Mahkinoc wished for the hundredth time in the past week that Oslo could feel him stare.  Broken as he was from his last encounter with Philorum he was unable to challenge Oslo effectively.  If he didn’t get himself repaired soon he would lose the tiny bit of power that he still wielded.

Mahkinoc watched unhappily as the scouts divided the plunder with Oslo.  He chided himself for not providing anything more than a few provisions during the trek through the highlands.  He was still coming to terms with the power of greed and was painfully learning its awesome potency.

He was musing on this very thought when Rhue sat down beside him whispering in his thick northern accent, Sir, this has not been what I had in mind.

Nor I, lamented the damaged animatoid.  It seems our best laid plans have gone awry.

It seems that way, sir, agreed the Tanthris blacksmith. His faint midline still had sweat seeping down along it from his blackish-purple hair. I saw the stuff they brought back with them.  They say they raided a small homestead.  That’s impossible.  It had to have been a major land holder’s estate judging from the booty.  I counted at least eight solid silver candlesticks and quite a few silver utensils.  I also watched one of them clean his sword as he was walking up.  We were supposed to be going into a business, not The Business, which brings me to my next point.  I was used as bait so they could ambush a patrol.

Rhue carefully related the story finishing with, At least, I think he escaped.

You’re reasonably sure?

Aye, Rhue confirmed in his heavy accent.  Made young Franco look like a cabin boy on his first voyage.  I haven’t seen a man move like that since my orbits on Norta Isla.

Sir, the swarthy Tanthris spoke even lower after a brief silence, I don’t think Oslo has much of a use for us anymore.  Do you think you might make yourself a bit more valuable?  You may not have to sleep, but I do.

I’ll do what I can, but no promises yet, answered Mahkinoc.  Then, he sighed, If only we could have gotten our hands on that book.

If only we were filthy rich and had servants to pick our snotty noses, Rhue dead-panned.

Mahkinoc chuckled, Well spoken.

Be careful, Rhue grimaced then stood up.

I will.

_______

The haze resolved into images once again.  Amora, take this, please, the metallic skeleton passed a simple, silver ring with a prominent sapphire to the young Insidis girl.  The girl seemed about eight orbits of age and was dressed in a warm, grey acolyte’s robe that nearly matched the ground she stood trembling on.

Uncle Phil, what’s this for? the girl asked hesitantly with the full knowledge that the bone knight could send her back to the Tower of Gilead and away from her new friends.

It’s a very special ring, Amora.  Wherever you go and whatever you do, I’ll be able to watch you—and see everything.

But...

Hush, the bone knight interrupted her protest before she had a chance to convince him otherwise.  She was extremely good at that.  In fact, that was a large part of the reason this had become necessary.  You may never take it off.  Ever.  You are not allowed to so much as cover it except when relieving yourself.  Don’t dally.

But...

I’ll know the second you take it off.  I’ll come looking for you, and you won’t be happy when I find you.  Any questions?

The blonde, little Insidis chewed her lip for a second before answering weakly, Is that all?

No, The bone knight shook his head minutely in the negative.  I thought this assignment of watching over you ten fosterlings here at Illumina castle would be just that, watching.  However, you have forced me to another course of action.  For the next month—and I mean a full twenty-five days—you are not allowed out of my sight.  Literally. I want to see your devious, smiling face twenty tenths a day, five days a week starting now.

Just as the bone knight paused, the room brightened as the dawn light of Thiel broke over the horizon.  The bone knight continued, At this exact moment twenty-five days from now, you’ll be free of my presence.  But, you’ll wear that ring until you finish your time here.  You’ve earned it.

So, can I go now?

_______

He hasn’t moved for two whole days, remarked the intense, dark haired teenager as he stared over the ledge of a mostly empty wagon.

I know, Castel Crea replied flippantly.  Her dark-purple, twin braids framed her thin Tanthris face and curious eyes as she too stared at the silvery, immobile bone knight.

Do you think he’s dead? Castel reached over and flicked a fingernail against the overly-thick, actium ribcage and extracted a resonating ping.

Crea was about to respond when a small scaly head nuzzled her hand.  She looked down into two bright eyes that stared up at her expectantly.  You’re hungry, aren’t you? she pressed her thin lips firmly together in the knowledge that her work was never done.

Yes, the small voice hissed longingly, So are my sisters.  Well, one of them is.  You know that Ascothien is constantly nibbling on that dried meat you mistakenly call ‘food’.  But, we would really like a warm sheep or even a cow.

You just ate a sheep each in Respite, protested Crea to the young, rust-colored dragon, It’s only been three days!

Yes, but it makes us hungry watching Ascothien—‘chew’ while you read to us from the Annals on the road, Aarabeth replied.

Then I guess that means no more snacking for Ascothien, Crea decided aloud.

No! objected another small hissing voice emerging from under the wagon, I like my snacks.

Castel jumped back instinctively and jostled his still-healing arm painfully.  Ascothien! exclaimed Castel as every muscle in his body tensed, Quit doing that!

Doing what? asked the little blue dragon innocently.

Sneaking around like that, answered Castel angrily.  Besides, aren’t you supposed to stay in your cart?

Crea let us out to exercise, explained the sneaky broodling.

She’s right, Castel, I forgot to send them back, apologized Crea sweeping a stray, purple lock from her sharp eyes.

Castel simply stood there, not knowing what to say.  So when do we eat? Aarabeth broke the silence.

_______

The following day Aarabeth and his sisters tore up two old sheep purchased from a nervous farmer who had been tending his herd near the road.  The old peddler who was traveling with the actium caravan had made the deal on the spot and gained a little more respect in Crea’s eyes.

The three broodlings now sat in the back of the wagon with Castel holding the reigns so she could read to the attentive little creatures.  She was mildly pleased that Aarabeth wasn’t interrupting so much.  Sometimes she completed three chapters before that annoying little voice asked a hard or intensely personal question, usually both at once.  At the rate things were going, she didn’t think her conscience would ever let her sleep well again.

Why does The Tower Beneath the Moon not submit to the Wise One’s chosen Illuminarch? Aarabeth inquired after Crea finished another chapter.  At least the question was on topic.

You see, stalled Crea as she groped for a believable answer, The Tower has been around longer than the Illuminarch.  That should be enough.

But, so were the five lands, stated Aarabeth.

You sure know a lot for only being five orbits old.  Is that a question or are you arguing? snapped Crea.

I was just hoping you could...

Hey, I don’t know, interrupted Crea.  Ask Philorum.  I feel certain he knows.

But he’s just been laying there since the day after we left Respite, answered Aarabeth. Then, he added secretively, I think he’s hibernating.

I hope so, responded Crea.  It would be pretty weird if he was dead.  Castel nodded his head in agreement at the morbid idea and gave the horses a little urging.  I wonder if he’s dreaming, Crea wondered aloud as she found her place in the thick book again.

Can you see a reason why he wouldn’t? Castel wondered.

No, not really, answered Crea, I just feel that it’s an interesting question to think about. And has an answer that doesn’t require me to change.

The lean young man chewed on that idea for a moment then questioned thoughtfully, What do you think he would dream about?  I mean, if he can dream, seeing that he’s just made of metal.

He was instructed to take a few weeks off in that dispatch from The Tower, answered Crea.  If he needs time off, then he probably has other physical needs.

Yes, agreed Castel, "but that letter also said he hadn’t taken any time off for a very long time. Do think he might have been afraid to rest?"

Now that you mention it... Crea pressed her thin lips together in thought.  Finally, she spoke again, Maybe it wasn’t rest he was afraid of.  That just doesn’t feel right.  It has to be something more.

After the two sat in silence for a moment, Aarabeth impatiently re-entered the conversation.  We’re getting bored back here.  Would you mind picking up where you left off.

That’s it! exclaimed Castel so suddenly that even Aarabeth jumped back.  He’s afraid of boredom.  No, strike that.  It can’t just be boredom... can it?

You know how I feel about boredom, answered Crea.  It’s possible.

But you’re a Tanthris.  He’s just a machine, reasoned Castel.  I’m sure routine is not exactly as a repellent idea to Philorum as it is to you.  It’s got to be something else.

Crea, if you aren’t going read, Aarabeth interrupted their thoughts again, We’re just going to take a nap back here.

Fine, replied Crea absently, then, Wait, maybe he’s afraid of something that happens when he’s bored.  We know he talks to messengers.  Do you think... no that can’t be it... could it?

No, Castel disagreed, sensing her idea.  It’s probably something much more basic.  Just how different can an animatoid be from us?

You mean other than completely?

_______

Ghostspeaker, whispered a harsh voice that broke into the grayish mist and splashed about color, We can’t stay here.

I know.  I just want to make sure everything goes as planned, Uncle.

If we stick around, I can promise you it won’t.  Now, move it!

Yes, Uncle, Ghostspeaker submitted.  He was a young Insidis of maybe twenty orbits.  He had clipped his blond hair unusually short revealing his ear holes and a thick, still-healing scar at his hairline.  His heavy features belied his uncommon quickness.

The Uncle was also an Insidis, perhaps ten or eleven orbits older, and much wiser.  He had cut his white hair just above his shoulders and wore a black eye-patch over his left eye decorated with three, small, and pale sapphires set near the center.  Three unmistakable scars seemed to radiate and twist across his face from each sapphire. Whatever had given him the marks had no business in the ordinary.  At least, that was how the Uncle explained them when asked directly.  From that look in his good eye, Ghostspeaker had only been able to muster the courage to ask once.

The two lightly armed Insidis hurried away down a curving stairwell trying not to make any more noise than necessary.  However, it was all for not.  They had not gone more than two flights when a servant spotted them and cried out in alarm before the Uncle could permanently silence him.  Run boy! The Uncle urged him downward.  Around them, the air swirled with messengers and the not-quite beautiful shadowed.

The two souls fled down the stairs past the ground floor and first basement before emerging into the provision cellars.  Grab what you can on your way out, whispered the pale Uncle as they followed their steps back through the familiar room.  It may be a bit before we can show our faces again if we’re not careful.  Ghostspeaker nodded and hurried after his master reaching into barrels and stuffing his pockets as he went.

They stopped beside a large barrel that was hurriedly pried open so they could drop inside to the escape tunnel below.  Ghostspeaker closed the passage behind them.  They ran down the low tunnel as fast as they could and tried to duck the low spots whenever possible.  Shortly, they pushed back a cunning weave of grass and scrambled out of the concealed exit on the back side of a hill.  The fortress they had just come from perched on a small rise on the other side. 

Athiel was just coming out of eclipse when they crawled on their stomachs and peered back over the crest of a separate ridge.  Flames had already engulfed the northwest tower and were steadily working their way into the other parts of the fortification.  Ghostspeaker hoped the children had made it out safely.

_______

The grin on Oslo’s face as he sat down on his haunches beside Mahkinoc gave the beleaguered animatoid the creeps.  The bluish-silver light of Athiel glimmered sickly in the large bandit’s eyes and cast a frightful pall over his scarred face.  It was nearly a tenth past the eclipse and Mahkinoc’s turn to stand watch.  To which of your new projects do I owe this visit, Mahkinoc’s bass asked softly without turning to face Oslo.  His hood was down, so he had no need to turn thanks to the actium anchors in the plate atop his head.  He kept a close watch though.

Nothing to worry about, old chap.  I assure you, replied Oslo nonchalantly while peering out of the small stand of trees concealing their camp.  I just wanted to tell you a little story.  You understand, of course.  It’s just a small personal note to help you get to know me a little better.  After all, we’re still on the same side.  That young brat still has your book, and his poisoned friend has my sword.  We’ll need to work together to remedy that.

You said you had a story.

I‘ll get to that momentarily.  It’s not often we have the chance to have a heart-to-heart chat, old chap.  That is, of course, if you have one.  It was almost a question, but Mahkinoc ignored it, letting it hang in the still truenight air until Oslo pressed nimbly on, I know that in the past we may have disagreed on tactics and other small minutia, but now that we have an opportunity to come to a more comfortable arrangement—at least, it will be for me—you might even like what I propose.

And what would that be?

I know you can still move around just fine.  It would help us all if you returned to scouting ahead again.  Then, Oslo’s eyes glimmered and his voice hardened significantly, I’ll let you scout if you will swear to scout where I tell you too and not go off looking for a way to repair yourself. I have the advantage right now and I mean to keep it.  In return I’ll make sure I get that little silver book back to you if the opportunity arises, which I’m fairly sure it will.

So what’s to keep me from just running off while scouting?  Pardon the expression, Mahkinoc motioned slightly toward his propulsion coils with his good hand.

That’s where my story comes in, again with the evil grin.

Tell me, Mahkinoc replied much more calmly than he felt.

The Dark Knight of the Soul

Hush, Amora, the cloaked bone knight rebuked his charge.  She was also draped in a cloak, but one that fit upon the diminutive frame with little question that a stunning young woman lurked beneath.  I’ve been at this for more than a century.  We’ll do this my way. It works.

So would my way, the lady folded her arms across an ample bosom.  Which was to say that it was ample enough to carry a few spare daggers, a nearly useless training manual—she had once used it to knock a fleeing criminal unconscious at fifteen strides—and some medical supplies.  Under the right camouflage, it could occasionally even bring the miscreants she was hunting to her.

What did I tell you?

I’m not just eight orbits old anymore.  You could at least consider my suggestion.

I never gave uncle Rezyn as much trouble in my whole apprenticeship as you’ve given me in just two months.  The bone knight could just make out the glint of light as her fingers played absently with a small sapphire ring around one finger while she pretended to listen.  He was thoroughly convinced she would do her best to prove every word he spoke wrong.

I don’t approve, she nearly spat.

Just stay close and watch my back, whispered the exasperated bone knight.  Look, there he goes.  An obviously drunk man staggered out of the poorly lit tavern and into the narrow alleyway.  It was going to be easier than the old bone knight hoped. He hated chases though populated areas.  That tended to cause needless damage to the surroundings and cost The Tower resources they were loathe to surrender.  And the paperwork it created...

The bone knight motioned with a gloved finger held low beneath his waist.  A moment later they were trailing the doomed human down dimly-lit, adobe-lined alleys.  The man seemed to be foolishly making his way home by the back streets.  The bone knight wondered why anyone would take such a dangerous route.  Probably doing something shameful or illegal.  The dossier he had compiled earlier strongly suggested the latter.

The bone knight noted numerous shadowed watching cautiously from dark shadows and windows.  He was also highly aware that the two messengers beside him were well accompanied by a few extra shadowed themselves whose imperfect faces leered and snarled occasionally as evil thoughts dashed across their twisted minds.  But they stayed oddly silent, and that made him worry.  It always made him a bit uneasy when they failed to offer even token resistance.

The man slowly worked his way from the outer edge toward a slightly nicer neighborhood nearer the center of the Hazir triplex of Meleckireem, but that only meant you were less likely to get stabbed for just looking at someone.  The bone knight and his charge stayed close and moved silently, but the man was picking up his pace as he moved onto a larger thoroughfare.  Ahead, the bone knight could make out a boxed jumble of multiple houses stacked atop each other in what seemed haphazard fashion, as the Hazir tended to have the bizarre habit of doing.  To the aesthetic in him, it was a serious breach of some rule and almost caused him to shudder.

Assuming our information is correct, he’s almost home, The bone knight whispered to his charge.  I’m going to join him around the next corner.

Why there?

It’s in sight of his home, explained the bone knight, With apparent safety so close at hand, he’ll be more willing to talk.  I want to make sure he’s the only one with the knowledge of the technology and find out if any of it is written down.  If he’s been careless, we’ll have a few more stops before Thiel rises.  I want you stay on him while I cut him off.  Understand?

Of course.

Good.  Now don’t get creative.  Then, despite his size, the bone knight disappeared into the night like a stray, desert zephyr.

The bone knight passed a large building on the thoroughfare and glanced up at a lighted window on the third floor of the haphazard construction.  It was probably the rogue’s home.  He winced when he heard the crashing fall of something from the direction of the rogue.  Amora had better not have...

Then he looked back up, his gaze drawn by motion.  The silhouette of a woman graced the curtains in the window.  He noted she had something in her arms as well.  It appeared to be wiggling.  Oh no, he thought.  If Amora sees that then she’ll never...  Too late.

Philorum’s gaze dropped back down into the shadows where the cloaked form of his charge was huddling over something.  She didn’t...

A few questions, Mr. Hemoshith.  Please answer quietly, Amora’s contra-alto dripped with menace.  Do you know that person in the window?

Yes. The man stammered fearfully.  The bone knight couldn’t see his charge’s dagger, but it had to be pressed up against the man somewhere inconvenient.

How?

Wife, was the only word able to fall from his trembling lips.  There was a puddle forming on the stones beneath him.

Does she know about this?

This? The man’s eyes were wide as saucers.  Amora turned her face just enough to allow a glint of light sparkle off her metallic face.  Ohhhh— realization blossomed in the man’s face and he nearly passed out.

We’re not done yet, Mr. Hemoshith.  Answer my question.

No, no, not at all.  I’m the only one.

Amora stared into the man’s eyes as he spoke nodding her head as she ascertained the truth of his statement.  Finally she asked, Do you have anything written down?

No, that would be stupid.

You have no idea.

Are you going to kill me? the man trembled as he asked.

Do see that shadow over there to your right?  The man took a deep breath when he finally made out the vague outline of the cloaked bone knight. He not only wants to kill you, but he can do it pretty much anytime he chooses.  I’m very tempted to let him considering what you’ve done and all the lives you’ve so carelessly put in danger.  Do you understand that?  The man nodded affirmatively.

Good.  I’m going to make you a deal, Amora stated then paused thoughtfully for a moment while the poor man awaited his sentence.  She carefully pulled the sapphire ring off her finger and placed it in the man’s hand.  Put this on.  The man fumbled with it for a moment before finally sliding it onto the only finger it fit, his pinky.  This sapphire allows me to watch you wherever you are.  Do you understand?  The man nodded again.  I would be offended if you were to take it off or try to cover it.  You don’t want to offend me, do you?  More head bobbing while Amora took her time planning her words.  I’m going to be your friend.  Friends watch out for each other.  They help each other and tell each other secrets.

There was another long pause, then Amora smiled far too sweetly, I want to share a little secret with you.  Are you ready?  Stunned silence, then very slow head nodding.  "I’m the only thing between you and that big, mean bone knight over in the shadows.  The only thing.  So, do you want to be my friend?  Good.  I’m glad you feel that way.  Please, try not to offend me.  I wouldn’t want to lose a new friend.  Would you?  I thought so.  Now, let me tell you how you can be a good friend." 

Amora spoke quietly with the terrified man for a few minutes while the bone knight watched.  He had to admit that she was talented, but it was just so inefficient.  At least the young man was no longer his responsibility.  The report would make sure that was well understood.

Amora finally allowed the man to retreat back to the haphazard boxes of homes and motioned for Philorum to pay attention.  She pointed up toward the lighted window and put a hand to her ear.  The scene quietly faded away as another took its place.

_______

Aarabeth and his sisters chewed loudly on the sheep bones.  Occasionally, Castel turned back to look from his perch atop Philorum’s wagon, regretting each time he did so.  The firewood was already collected and his quick swordsmanship lesson with the old veteran, Grenado, was completed and proved by a series of bruises about his right thigh.  Castel and Crea were chatting while they waited for the broodlings to finish their meal.  How much longer till Mom comes looking for them? Crea asked and thumbed over her shoulder.

I can’t foresee it being much longer, Castel shrugged after a moment.  He drew another breath then added, However, if you could pass a week between meals, I could see how the passage of time might seem a bit more relative.

True.  Crea nodded then took a sip on the weak tea Grenado had made for