The Brat's Final Gambit

Niam gave out a loud exclamation of surprise as a carriage nearly ran him over. Card disappeared somewhere in a throng of shoppers along the walk in front Pirim Village’s finest shops. The carriage driver who nearly ran Niam down was too busy looking at the shops to notice him, and Niam swore as he picked himself up from the sidewalk where he had thrown himself in order to avoid being run over.

Across the street, Bug and Card were nowhere to be found.

Niam cursed loudly, and several people looked at him with narrow-eyed stares. At the moment, he did not care what anyone thought about a boy’s proper behavior. The clip-clop of horseshoes rang out as carts and carriages creaked and grated down the stone-paved street. An angry chorus of shouts erupted every time Niam tried without success to dart across the busy street.

With each cart that passed, desperation began to build. After what seemed like an eternity, Niam finally found his chance and dodged between two carts. When he got to the other side, there were even more people milling around the storefronts. Niam wished more than anything that they would all just disappear. No matter how much he craned his neck to see over the crowd’s heads, seeing much farther than ten feet was impossible. He wanted to scream. If he couldn’t find Bug’s trail soon, he might not be able to catch up with her before Card did.

Bug was amazed at how many people now clogged the streets and walkways in the center of Pirim Village. Every time she tried moving quickly, someone stepped in front of her or stopped to stare. In her haste to get back to Corey, she bumped into a flustered looking man carrying an unstable stack of boxes, sending the stack tumbling to the walk and its contents scattering in every direction.

“Sorry!” Bug squealed. The man just stood there looking frustrated. Somewhere on the other side of town, Corey sat alone. Bug bit her lip and fought the urge to just keep going. But as soon as she bent over to help the man, she caught sight of an all too familiar face behind her.

Bug’s eyes widened, as she saw the look on Card’s face. Quickly she straightened, mumbled a hoarse apology to the man she had run into, and as swiftly as her legs would carry her, moved on, praying that Card was only passing through.

But there was a hungry look in his eyes. What Card was hungry for, she trembled to think of. Everyone knew what he was like. Quickly, she shot a glance back over her shoulder. Every muscle in her body seemed on the verge of locking up. If she didn’t force her legs to keep moving as fear lanced through her, she might miss a step and stumble.

Card was maybe thirty feet behind her and gaining. He made no attempt to disguise the expression that ate its way across his face. In desperation, Bug cast her eyes about for a familiar face. No matter how hard she looked, she found no one. Although there were people everywhere, she had never felt so alone in her entire life. With a frightened gasp, she took off running.

As Maerillus walked, an unseen figure slipped in behind him unaware. For the first time in a long time, he was free to walk alone, and before he eventually met up with Davin and Niam later on in the evening, he wanted nothing more than to find a quiet spot and soak in the solitude.

The only problem was that the end of the trade conference signaled the busiest time of the year for Pirim Village. Maerillus always thought that it was ironic how quiet the place became just a few days later. Soon, Maerillus’s father, Lord Joachim, along with other lords who sat on the assembly would make their last trip to Kalavere and to Pallodine to tie up business before winter took its first real bite out of the area. Usually he looked forward to taking those trips with his father, but this time he was remaining behind. He had to. So did Davin. So did Niam. His father and Lord Joachim had been adamant about that. They had been discussing the business with Davin about the murderer in Kalavere just two days ago. Apparently Davin had managed in one day to set the whole northern part of the kingdom alight with rumors of the return of the Dread Lords. And if he could manage that in one visit, neither their families nor Joachim were eager to see what kind of trouble they could manage to fall into in a larger city like the capital.

Maerillus grunted at that thought. The Dread Lords. Ha! Stories of the Dread Lords were told by candlelight on the darkest evenings of the year to titillate and scare young children. Until the things he had seen at the Vandin camp, Maerillus never gave much credence to the campfire stories whispered when he was a young boy. As a child, however, he ate them up. The stories told of powerful madmen who had once gone too far in their quest to tame the wild energy of another plane of existence—a place that had been set aside from the world of men by the Creator at the dawn of creation. Their lust for conquest gave rise to terrible sorceries that raised up armies of unnatural creatures and set them to ravage the civilized nations of the world.

A glorious era came to an end at their hands as they fought one another for dominance. Stories abounded of the marvels still visible in the forbidden ruins of the haunted cities in the southernmost lands of the continent—cities where the skeletal remains of buildings rose high into the sky, and fireless lights still burned in the dark of night, though no living soul existed within the ruins. No one dared cross those walls, which had been built, depending upon who told the stories, to possibly keep something within the cities rather than thrill seekers and looters out. In the darkest stories, the walls existed to protect those foolish enough to consort with the Prince of Lies from getting in least they wake something that slept and ought to remain asleep forever.

Maerillus eventually grew up, though.

As he looked around, he sighed. There was no way he was going to find a place entirely to himself. People were everywhere shopping and talking. The end of the trade conference was as much a festival as a chance to be the last to buy the goods from overseas.

Maerillus slowly made his way to a vendor selling crispy sausages with a small loaf of bread and took one, then carried it over to a where a great maple stood, ringed by holly bushes in the heart of the thinly wooded park that dominated the center of Pirim Village. Within the ring of bushes, there was a clearing large enough for several people to sit and remain hidden from anyone not close enough to stand on top of them.

Maerillus sat down and helped himself to his lunch. Nearby, a pair of angry eyes stared with a devouring intensity that verged on murder. If anyone else had chanced by and caught a glimpse of that stare, a cold chill might have run down their back and struck the place where intuition and observation combined. If they had seen that stare and felt the chill, they would have known that someone was going to die before the sun went down that day.

But Maerillus wasn’t privy to such a view, and so he went on thinking as he ate slowly. He could not seem to get events at the Vandin camp out of his mind. He had always doubted the veracity of stories that told of how the Dread Lords wielded sorceries that allowed them to control lightning and turn men into nightmare monsters.

Now he knew better. It was possible for men to harness dark powers and bend them to their will. The exploding boxes and the creature that had nearly killed him and his two friends were proof of that.

A final battle of powerful Mages united against the Dread Lords brought their reign of terror to an end. Because of men wielding forces beyond their ability to control, Wizard’s Hammers enforced the laws established to keep magic wielders from running amok. Nearly every mage powerful enough to be dangerous was tightly controlled in some way by the royal court of each nation. Sometimes there were rogue practitioners . . . or worse, sorcerers. And now there was obviously one at work near Pirim Village. Maerillus shuddered. But there was another thought that weighed on Maerillus even heavier than this one, and he was embarrassed to admit to himself that this was so.

Lately, all he could think about was Betsy.

He had never expected to develop feelings for a serving girl. Since getting to know her, he came to believe she was everything other girls he met were not. Most girls saw him as a ticket to a better life. The ones already born to the same class Maerillus belonged to saw him as a continuation of the life they had become accustomed to. But none of this mattered to Betsy. Like Niam and Davin, she liked Maerillus despite his family’s money. She simply didn’t care.

Or that is the way it had seemed.

Yet ever since the conference, she had acted as if they had never kissed, or walked the trails around the estate holding hands. Her behavior hurt Maerillus. And now he could not stop thinking of her.

From a copse of trees concealing his body in shadows, Salb drilled holes into Maerillus’s back with hate-filled eyes. His day was coming. On the sidewalk skirting the edge of the park, the Maldies fool nearly ran three people over. There was no mistaking the desperation in his eyes.

Salb chuckled quietly.

He bet he knew exactly what Maldies was looking for, and he knew where Maldies would eventually end up. That was why after suffering through Kreeth’s irate rant Salb had sent Card after the stupid twit everyone called Bug. What was it to Salb that Card had tastes for young meat? They were supposed to follow the three brats and cause them trouble, weren’t they? Salb felt no pity for Bode, who not only led them up to the Vandin camp and nearly got them killed, but missed an opportunity to make real money when Kreeth came around with a job for them to do.

On the way into Pirim Village, Salb had passed Bug and her feeb cousin at one of the stables on the western end of town. That was where Card would try to have his fun with the girl. If Maldies was quick enough to catch them, opportunities to cause a lot of trouble definitely increased.

As Salb moved in the direction of the stables, his hand seemed to itch and close reflexively over the place where his sword used to rest. Soon, he thought to himself, he would deal with Maerillus Sartor and pay him back for that day on the bridge when the sneak surprised him from behind. Maybe he would climb down into the channel and find the sword Sartor had forced him to throw over the side. The thought that it might still be waiting for him in the muddy water made him smile. It was a wicked smile, to be sure. But for Salb, those were the best kind. Sticking it in the rich brat’s side would be a nice way to get even with him for what he had done.

Davin walked through crowds of visitors and townspeople, reveling in his day of freedom. Briefly, he wondered what Maerillus and Niam might be up to.

With any luck, maybe Maerillus might find another girl to take his mind off of Betsy. Seeing Maerillus play the gloomy role in their trio instead of Niam was too strange for Davin to fathom right now. Of course, things could have been worse. Davin just missed Salb, who appeared locked so deeply inside an unpleasant thought that he walked right by without recognizing him. And that was good because while Bode might have kept his temper in check, Salb would have tried something stupid and harmful, and the last thing Davin wanted was trouble. Something was coming and it seemed to lie just over the horizon. Davin may not have had Niam’s ability to sense unseen things, but just like the feeling haunting him at the Vandin camp, more trees were going to fall soon.

Davin turned to go back, but stopped abruptly. A panicky looking just Bug just ran into a group of shoppers on the other side of the park because her attention was directed at someone behind her. The moment Davin saw who, his heart turned cold for Niam’s little friend. Before Davin could make out where they were going, the endless motion of people surrounding them swallowed up both Bug and Card.

Davin cursed. They were too far away to keep track of. Before Davin could take a step to follow, Niam emerged from a cluster of people across the street. Farther back stood the tall bell tower of the new monastery, and beyond that, the mayor’s office. A look of frustration clouded his sharp, boyish features, and his skinny friend looked furious.

Davin waved his hands and bellowed as loudly as he could. Niam stopped, turned, and gaped openly in surprise. He tried to shout something back, but was simply too far away to be heard. Davin shook his head and pointed frantically in the direction Bug and Corey had disappeared. Niam was closer, and if he hurried, he might be able to catch up with them eventually.

He prayed that Niam understood. His friend nodded his head and sprinted off in the right direction. “Let me guess,” Maerillus said, suddenly standing in the middle of a ring of holly bushes, “There’s about to be trouble.”

Davin looked at Maerillus blankly for a second. “How’d you get in there?” he asked completely surprised.

“Good place as any to have lunch alone,” Maerillus said quickly. “What’s going on with Niam?”

“Not Niam this time,” Davin said as Maerillus hastily stepped over the lowest holly bush. “It’s his friend, Madeline. Card is after her and it definitely looks like trouble.”

“Oh,” Maerillus said, knowing full well the kind of trouble Card spelled for Madeline. “That’s not good.”

“No,” Davin said as they speedily made their way to the side of town Niam Bug, and Card had run toward. “It’s not.”

“How are we going to find them in all of this?” Maerillus asked, slowing to an easy jog beside Davin as knots of people thickened the closer they drew to vendors alongside the street.

“Let it all play out,” Davin said soberly. “It always seems to anyway.”

“We do have a way of finding trouble,” Maerillus quipped dryly.

“I think trouble found us today,” Davin said.

Behind them, as if in response to Davin’s words, Jalt moved easily through the throngs of people, remaining just out of sight.

Jolan Kine leaned against a support several buildings down from the Greenbrier Inn where Garrolus Kreeth usually ate his lunch. There he waited and watched. Though he did not know why he waited.

Dark sorcerers never did anything to attract attention to themselves in the bright light of day. Not if they wanted to live long. Maybe it was that Kine wanted to watch him more, to size up his opponent, take the fullest measure of the man before finally bringing him to justice. But there was more to it than that. There were pieces missing in the equation he had formulated in his mind, things that weren’t adding up the way they ought to. Kine cursed Jort under his breath. The old fox took too many damned secrets to his grave.

Plus, the mayor was now missing, and that was a fact that he and Lord Joachim had not let out. With all of the mysterious break-ins, people were edgy. Jolan winced at his own failing in this. He had allowed himself to get too caught up in those three boys when he ought to have discovered why the mayor had been so preoccupied and agitated. He was sure that Kreeth was somehow involved. And he liked to know how and why before he made a move. Perhaps senility was more than an act by the time Jort died. His death had been sloppy. Had his old mentor moved against Kreeth before he should have? He had a reputation of jumping before looking and catching up on the details after the final move was carried out. But if there was anyone who ever managed to pull it off, Jort was the man.

Jolan shifted uncomfortably as this ran through his mind while he waited for Kreeth to leave. Reaching up, he pulled wide brimmed hat down over his face. Kreeth might not make a move in public, but he still didn’t want the man to recognize him.

Of all the magical arts, sorcery was expressly forbidden. Fear of such powers wielded outside of the official sanction of the crown still inspired enough terror among the people of the kingdom to hunt down rogue wizards and put them to a flaming end. Sorcerers were even more reviled.

This area had always been a magnet to practitioners of the magical arts. But the amount of dark arts being employed here was enough to cause Kine many sleepless nights. The area now practically hummed. Ever since the day Jort discovered Kine, a young wharf rat fending for himself in the dirty port below Pallodine, Kine’s life had been a study in hunting down rogue mages and sorcerers.

Now Jort was gone, and the knowledge of what he had uncovered here gone with him. As if what the boys were was not enough for any three Hammers to deal with! Beyond this, with all of the things the boys were certainly destined to attract, far more was afoot in the Lake Valleys.

The most valuable tool a Hammer possessed was his ability to sense the presence of magic and sorcery. Magic existed as a resonance, or vestigial energy left over from the world’s creation. Practitioners learned to attune themselves to these resonances, and eventually they learned to harness them. But they existed as a part of nature. Sorcery drew on powers that came from, for lack of a better word . . . someplace else. Always there was a taint, or residue of filth and darkness that hung around long after a sorcerer moved on. And on a number of occasions, after entering a sorcerer’s lair, Kine had the suspicion that there was a kind of intelligence that lingered too. In such places, he often felt as if he were being watched from a place of shadows.

From the other side of the park across the street, someone shouted. The urgent insistence of the voice snapped Kine out of his thoughts. He knew that voice. It belonged to the young Hapwell boy.

Kine’s eyes darted to Hapwell and then to the person he was motioning to.

Niam Maldies.

The distraught expression on Maldies’s face clearly showed even from a distance. Niam waved his arms frantically. He wanted Hapwell to see a girl being followed by a much larger boy. Jolan Kine looked at the large lad intently. He saw the look in the kid’s eyes and shivered. Kine didn’t have to be a mind reader to know what the big fellow was thinking.