Regret's Shadow (Sins of Earth Trilogy) Read online

  The Old Badger had been all fire and brimstone, calling for Duln’s head on a platter. The rouse had worked; everyone was incensed at the infiltrator who’d worked his way so high only to betray them all, and any idea that the Badger was in the baron’s pocket was erased from the collective consciousness.

  That had been a little over ten years ago. Duln had fled the city, ranging far to the north, making a living by his sword, until settling down in Corwood. He thought he’d put this chapter of his life permanently behind him.

  “Old habits die hard, eh?”

  He snapped his head from his drink. He’d gotten lost in memory, and lowered his guard. A pudgy man was sitting next to him, smoking a cigar. As Duln faced him, the fellow blew a puff of smoke in his face.

  Wielder glared and coughed slightly. Even in his heyday, he’d never gotten fully accustomed to smoking. The cigar smoker only laughed.

  He was wearing heavily padded clothing, a ridiculous coonskin cap, and appeared to be slathered in makeup, but Duln knew him immediately. The Old Badger nodded toward his tankard.

  “Still pretending that’s beer?” he chuckled.

  Wielder looked at his tankard of lemon water and smirked. He looked at his old friend with something like affection.

  “Still pretending to be a criminal?”

  Replacing the cigar in his mouth, the Badger nodded, smiling. He leaned in close to Duln.

  “Same as always. Never thought I’d see you back here. What gives, Duln?”

  Wielder paused, unsure of the answer himself. He looked around the clamorous bar and said, “Is there someplace more private we can go?”

  The Badger got serious and nodded. He tipped his cap slightly to the barkeep, and then motioned for Duln to get up with him. The two made their way to the back of the room, and through a door used by the kitchen staff.

  They walked through dimly lit hallways and a few storage rooms to emerge in a back alley. The sun had gone down, and a fat moon was making its shy entrance behind the palace. There was the stink of rotten food, booze, and worse about, and the two of them hurried along, the Badger in the lead.

  Before long they came to a townhouse, nondescript in design, and apparently on the list of the Badger’s safe houses. The older man fit a key into the lock, and pulled Wielder along with him into the darkened interior.

  There were a few moments that passed in the darkness, while the Badger rummaged through an end table that was positioned near the entrance. Wielder listened patiently. Finally, light bloomed in the small hallway, cast by the lamp that the Badger held aloft.

  The two continued through the house in silence, before entering the kitchen at the back. The Badger set the lantern upon a table, found a cleverly concealed latch on the floor and pulled open a trap door. He smiled up at Duln, who returned his look with a shake of his head. The Badger had always loved his clandestine meeting places; the more reminiscent of spy thriller novels the better.

  They descended into the cellar, where Duln was happy to find chairs and a couch that were comfortable, if a bit mildewed. The walls were of rough stone, the floor dirt, covered in an old braided rug. Upon a rectangular table in the center of the room, the Badger placed the lantern, before beginning the process of removing his disguise.

  “You always were one for the theatrics,” Wielder couldn’t help but grin at the man as he wrestled with the stuffed clothing.

  The Badger grunted as he struggled, “Works…I got next to you without you…nng…noticing, didn’t I?” The last was triumphant, as he worked his head free of the belly shirt. Wielder just shook his head and stared.

  Wiping his face clear of makeup, the man presented a drastically different figure than that of Duln’s memory. He was a stripling of a man in his late sixties, wire thin and steel hard. He had a five o’clock shadow that trailed up to his stubbly head. His bushy eyebrows remained, however, white as virgin snow.

  Wielder figured a lot must have happened in the ten years he’d been gone, but somehow he thought the rake would have remained exactly the same.

  “So,” the older man sighed as he plopped down in a chair, “What brings the infamous Wielder Duln back to his old stomping grounds?”

  The soldier sat forward, rubbing his eye patch as he thought. He decided to start with the truth.

  “I work for the Baroness Emberlock now,” he started. The Badger merely nodded, as if he already knew this.

  And why not, Duln wondered. The man certainly made a living by possessing and selling information as much as any other illicit good.

  “She’s come to Galloway on a quest, a bid for power,” he said, not sure if he should have.

  The Badger’s eyebrows perked up just a tick, “Bid for power, eh? Does she mean to go after our baron? I’d hate to lose my job.” His eyes twinkled.

  “I’m not sure, exactly,” Duln replied, and for the first time since the whole thing had begun, he realized it was true.

  “To be honest, I’m not sure that Calistra knows exactly what’s going to happen.”

  Neither man spoke for a moment. The Badger held Duln’s gaze, as if trying to extract information from him through osmosis. Duln halfway believed the old man could do it.

  “I should tell you that I’ve informed the baron that she’s arrived,” the old man said quietly, testing the waters.

  Duln nodded. He would have expected no less. Still, he had concerns.

  “You know that she might be on to something here,” he started, feeling the words. “It’s possible that these Van Uthers are not the best we can do for leaders.”

  The Badger’s eyes were like chips of ice.

  “You really believe that?”

  Duln stood suddenly, “I don’t know.” He started to pace the small room, something he hadn’t done in a long time. The Badger could read his anxiety and let him work through it.

  “It’s possible what I believe doesn’t matter,” the warrior snapped, frustrated with his inability to sort through his feelings.

  “She’s come in force, Badger. I’m not the only one in her guard. Tolwyn has made the journey, and I mislike the power that old buzzard wields.”

  Again the bushy eyebrows shot up, “Tolwyn…the one the lord mages tried to assassinate? I thought he’d disappeared beyond the Holdwalls or some such.

  “She’s done well to keep his service a secret.”

  “She’s done more than that,” Duln replied, turning to offer a grim look to his old mentor, “She’s dabbling in Drejth affairs.”

  The room seemed to get colder.

  The Badger sat forward, “Drejth,” he breathed.

  “You’re sure?”

  Duln nodded, “Its worse. She’s been contacted by the shade of Malavarius himself, Badge.”

  The Badger balked.

  “I tell you, it’s true. The only reason I didn’t leave her service the moment I found out was that I’d hoped to stop her before she fell too far. I’m not sure how I can do that, now.”

  The old man frowned, “That’s not like you, Duln. You have a plan for everything.”

  Wielder stopped pacing and spread his hands upon the table, leaning forward. He shook his head in exasperation.

  “I’m out of my depth here, Badge. She’s got sorcerers, and some kind of ancient artifact that supposedly is being delivered from the Temple of the Sacred Scroll.

  “All she needs is some stripling of a monk who has a gift that can make the thing work, and she’s got everything in place to deliver a knock-out punch to the royals.”

  He formed a fist and thumped it on the table.

  “Guards I can kill. Hell, I might be able to catch Tolwyn in his sleep, if he sleeps, but the baroness is no slouch.

  “She’s got that infernal blade the Emberlocks have always carried, and Drejth’s given it more magic. She’s sharp as a scorpion’s tail and sees enemies where there aren’t any. At the first hint of detection, she’ll be gone.

  “Assuming I could win past her, there is still this art
ifact to content with. I’ve yet to see it, I don’t know what it does, and I’m not a mage anyhow.”

  He tapped his fist again, more in a show of defeat than of frustration.

  The Old Badger leaned back in his chair and blew out a sigh that ended in a coughing spell. As if that were a cue, he reached into his tunic and produced a cigar and match. Once he was puffing again, he assumed a pensive expression.

  Duln took a seat once more, letting his friend think. The old man did his best planning with a smoke and some quiet, so he often said, and Duln planned to let him have both.

  “I’ll inform the baron. Günter has no love for the baroness, I can tell you. He’s been chafing since he’d heard of your arrival in his city.”

  He held up his hand to stall the immediate protestations from Duln, “Not to worry; I can convince him of his need for delicacy, but I cannot in good conscience deny him this information.

  “Be honest, Duln, you had to know this when you came to me.”

  The warrior nodded, “I suppose I did.”

  “Now,” the Badger said, adopting a sage expression, “I see the solution to your problem, although you won’t like it.”

  Wielder looked like a man on a sinking ship seeking a lifeline.

  “You’ve got to kill this monk.”

  Chapter 25

  Colius barked at them to keep up. He had been animated all morning, which was a change from his normal hangover. The headmaster seemed in a hurry, although he was not forthcoming with their destination.

  It was their third day in the city, and they’d already started trading talks with the members of the library in Galloway. This morning the headmaster had roused them from slumber to harry them out of the inn.

  They made their way toward the sea. Dramus began to worry, as they were seeing more and more detritus and poor folk clogging the streets. The pressing throng began to separate them slightly, and the sheltered monk fought the rising panic to keep up. He looked back and saw the same feeling displayed on Erick’s face.

  Still, Colius seemed determined, and he commanded a knowledge of the streets that astounded his students. They wove through the avenues, steadily bringing them into a district near the docks dominated by warehouses.

  “Headmaster, wait,” Erick exclaimed. The two of them were losing sight of the suddenly energetic man. Colius stopped and turned, obviously frustrated. The two younger monks snaked through the throng to the fat man’s side. He was puffing and red-faced, but immediately turned to move on.

  “Where are we going?” Erick ventured.

  “I have a meeting,” Colius snarled. It was obvious he wanted to save every breath for walking.

  Dramus and Erick shared a look. They shrugged, and continued after their headmaster.

  Eventually they found themselves at the door to a warehouse that, to Dramus, was largely identical to the hundreds that surrounded it. While the two younger monks looked nervously up and down the oddly deserted street, Colius rapped upon the door.

  It opened and a stern faced man appeared, wearing dark clothes with a red dragon symbol upon the tabard that was slightly familiar to Dramus. He didn’t have time to dwell on it, as the man waved the group inside.

  “Move,” was all he said. While dubious, the two younger men followed their leader.

  The interior was dark. Any windows had been boarded up from the inside, and no torches were lit. There was a faint light coming from a distant doorway, which they used to navigate the cavernous storerooms. When they got to a small foyer at the other end, Dramus could see the door was cracked, with morning light flooding in.

  Dramus was growing more concerned. There was no reason he could think of to be in such a place, and he was getting more uncomfortable by the second. He glanced at Erick. The aide was looking wildly about, trying to pierce the darkness. He let out a soft whimper, looking at the floor, the ceiling, and especially at the back of their mysterious guide. He was like a rat in a trap.

  “Headmaster, what are we doing?” he asked, before their grim guide cut him off.

  “Quiet.”

  The guard reached down and pulled open a door in the floor, and then stood back, nodding to the headmaster. Colius returned his nod, made a sharp motion for the others to follow, and descended the stone steps into the cellar.

  They stood in the darkness at the bottom for a moment, until the guard came down, lit a torch, and lead the way into the gloom. The place smelled of mildew and dust, and Dramus was growing more and more uneasy.

  “We shouldn’t be here,” Erick whispered to him. Dramus didn’t respond, but he couldn’t help but agree. Something about the whole scenario was disturbing, beyond the strange location. He decided to keep his eyes open, and his other senses on edge.

  Further in, they came to a chamber much like the others they’d passed through. The torch-bearer leaned down to move a few pallets on the floor, then opened another trapdoor that had been concealed there.

  While it appealed to the side of Dramus’s imagination that enjoyed adventure tales, it was adding to his sense of foreboding.

  They descended and met another man in the same livery. The two strangers exchanged words, and then the group moved on while the remaining guard closed the trapdoor.

  Dramus tried to remember the way that they took through the catacombs, but after a time it became futile. Erick was becoming more distracting now; he jerked about constantly, as if each shadow were an enemy, and muttering to himself about “the pale man”. It added to a strong surreal quality to the whole thing.

  They began to see more men. Dramus could only assume they were soldiers of some kind. Each man was armed and armored. Each one stared at them as they passed.

  Eventually, Dramus saw light ahead of them in the corridor. They came into a large chamber, with crypts inset into the old-fashioned brick walls. A large table had been set up in the center of the room, and while there were other men moving about, tending to weapons and equipment, it was the woman at the table that commanded Dramus’s attention.

  She was bedecked in black plate armor, with a long black cloak trimmed in bear fur. She was an exotic beauty, with ebony hair, dusky skin, and eyes that were glittering pools of night. She was tall, and even leaning over the table with her hands braced upon it she was of equal height with most of the men in the room.

  Behind her loomed a brutal-looking man with an eye-patch. He stood with his arms crossed, looking over the map that was spread out on the table. He looked up as they entered and stiffened. The woman looked up and broke into an alluring smile.

  “Ahh, our guests have arrived!” she said, straitening and moving around the table, arms open. Dramus and Erick gaped as she moved to embrace the headmaster. Colius grasped her hungrily, and sought to kiss her, but she turned her head at the last moment, so he merely slobbered on her cheek.

  “Oh, Colius,” she purred, “You’re such a rogue!”

  She pushed him back to arm’s length and looked to the two younger monks. She seemed especially interested in Dramus.

  “So,” she breathed, “This is the one?” She looked back at the headmaster who nodded stupidly. She immediately left him, and moved to stand before Dramus.

  He was at a complete loss. The whole situation was quite beyond his ken, and so he simply tried not to do anything foolish. Still, he couldn’t help but shift uncomfortably under her searching glare.

  “My name is Calistra Emberlock, baroness of Lockhaven,” she said. He flinched slightly as she reached out a black-gloved hand and stroked his face.

  “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  “I don’t understand,” he said, voice creaking.

  She turned her head sharply to the headmaster and assumed an air of mock disappointment, “Colius! You didn’t mention me? I’m crushed.

  “You see, your headmaster and I are old friends,” she continued, walking over to stand next to Colius, “We share an interest in…political dynamics.”

  The headmaster seemed a little uncomf
ortable, but he nodded amiably.

  Calistra walked back to Dramus, “I’ve heard a lot about you, young Hiltsman.” She slid her arm through his, and he walked with her despite his surprise.

  “You have a gift, an ability that I require.” They walked around the table to a dark hallway in the opposite wall. Dramus went along, looking to Erick and the headmaster who came along behind. Erick looked as though he was in a trance, Colius appeared smug.

  They moved through the catacombs, a torch-bearer accompanying them. The baroness chattered along as they walked.

  “Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve been fascinated with history. My family has a rich tradition, you know. We’ve always been the staunchest allies of the Van Uther line, always ready to lay down life and limb for the cause.”

  She laughed bitterly, “Like most, we were blindly unaware of the great travesty that had been committed against the people of the Realm, by those sworn to protect it!”

  They had moved through many chambers and halls, before finally coming into a round room lit with lanterns upon hooks in the stone walls. In the center of the room stood a circular stone dais, raised to about thigh height. She stepped away from Dramus, moving around the dais and turning to face him.

  “The truth of our history is almost too fantastic to bear,” she said, her face growing grave.

  “The Van Uthers have lied to us for generations, and it’s time that the people were shown the truth.”

  She opened her arms wide and looked around the chamber, “This inauspicious place will witness the birth of a new age for mankind.” She lowered her gaze and pointed to Dramus.

  “And you are going to help make that happen.” With that, she nodded to her guards and they grabbed the young monk by the arms.

  “Hey,” he exclaimed, “Get what’s going on here? Colius?”

  The headmaster merely returned his look of fear and surprise with a deadpan glare. The obvious disdain that seeped from his beady eyes sent a chill through Dramus, as he was roughly shackled to the wall.