Dragonvein Book Four (26 page)

“How it happened isn’t important,” she told him. “But
why
it happened is. Falcar the Bald was the man who founded the Urazi. Only a member of the order or Martok the Great himself would know of our founder's name. Martok was the only non-member ever to be permitted to know our history. He spent years delving into our archives and learning about us.”

“Why would you allow him to do this?”

“It's quite simple. Martok saved us from annihilation, and his price for this was knowledge. He valued knowledge above all else. A remarkable man in many ways. So if he sent you to us with this particular message, it tells me that you are a man of value to him…and therefore possibly to us. We can see that the world is changing. And from what we are told by the elves, the end will not be too long in coming. The Eternal Emperor will eventually devour Lumnia and all those who live upon her.”

She paused, but Markus did not interrupt. He could see that she had more to say.

“Throughout most of our history, the Urazi has remained neutral,” Estella continued. “The affairs of kings, queens, and nobles are of little concern to us. Rulers reign for a time, then they die. Kingdoms rise and fall, whereas the Urazi endures. We were founded at the very beginning, when humans were brought here by the dwarves. Before the first mage ever learned to cast a spell, we were an established order. But now…things have changed.”

Her eyes grew dark. “Shinzan will not die. Instead, the world on which we call home will perish. And we can no longer remain neutral.”

“But you still do Shinzan’s bidding,” Markus pointed out. “Or was contacting me in Port Hull not something he commanded of you?”

“We have been forced to comply with his wishes occasionally in order to survive,” she explained. “We have done our best to remain elusive, though he still finds us when he needs our skills. Thankfully, that is rarely. Shinzan usually prefers those he orders killed to suffer gruesome and very public deaths -  not a task for which we are best-suited.”

“So can I gather from this that you are willing to help us in our fight against him?”

“That is a matter we can discuss once you have made your choice.”

Markus looked up at the arch. To be a member of the Urazi was not a decision to be made lightly. It was a lifetime commitment. And there was Lylinora to consider. Would he still be able to be with her?

“And if I desire none of these choices?” he asked. “If I just leave here.”

“Then you will die,” she replied. She spoke the threat as if she was passing on nothing more serious than her thoughts on the previous day's weather. “You will not be hindered while leaving. So there is no need to fear us at this moment. But we will see to your death.”

“And what if I just kill you all right here and now?” Markus' hand rested lazily on the hilt of his sword. “Do not forget to whom you are speaking.”

“I haven’t,” she assured him. “Which is why your death was arranged long before you arrived here. Toby saw to it when he first approached you.”

Markus tensed. “You had better explain yourself…now.”

Estella did not appear intimidated in the slightest. “Gladly. Toby poisoned you in the tavern. It’s slow acting, but very lethal. Without the antidote, you will die within the next six days. It is painless, I assure you. But one-hundred percent effective.”

Anger boiled within Markus. Not just at the situation, but at his own stupidity. He should have known…or at least suspected. “So you are saying that I have no choice.”

“We always have a choice. You can choose to die. Or you can choose to live.”

She stepped forward and placed her hand on his arm. “I understand your anger. I felt the same way. In fact, I was so damned stubborn, I almost chose to die out of sheer spite. But I do not regret my decision now. Join us, Markus. We need you. You can be the bridge which leads us into the new age. When Shinzan is gone, a new world will be formed. One in which we must find a fitting place.”

Markus could hear the sincerity in her tone. But one thought kept plaguing him. “Had you asked this of me years ago I wouldn’t have hesitated. But I have a different life now. One that I am unwilling to give up.”

Estella threw back her head in laughter. “Is that what you think would happen? You imagine a life with us would be lived underground and alone? Who would want that? You may have your life. Marry the mage woman if you so wish. Raise children. The Urazi does not forbid it. Hell, I have a husband and two daughters myself. I live a rich and full life away from this place. Of course, they know nothing of my position within the Urazi. Setting aside that it is against our rules, I would never want to burden them with such knowledge.”

Markus slowly shook his head. “Then I’m afraid that makes my decision for me. I will not hide what and who I am from Lylinora. I understand why you would want to protect your family, but she is different. She has seen how dark my soul is, and loves me anyway.” He took a step toward the etching of the eye. “I truly hope you can help us in our fight against Shinzan, but I cannot be a Muraji. Knowing nothing of what I do is my only option.”

“Wait!” She looked at him for a long moment. “She means
that
much to you?”

“More than anything.”

Estella sighed. “Then maybe it could be arranged. But only if you choose to walk through the arch. As a member of the order, you would be irrevocably bound by our laws. That said, should you choose to take the test and become a Muraji, I suppose we can adapt the rules to include Lylinora.”

Markus could clearly see the conflict on her face. “Why would you do this?”

Estella returned to the bench and sat down. It was a full minute before she spoke.

“I cannot go on alone, Markus,” she admitted in a half-whisper. “There must be more than one Muraji if things are to be changed. It’s too much for me; I need help. I have been a Muraji for seven years, and in that time I've been forced to witness the slow decline of our order. What is worse, I am helpless to stop it.”

“And you think
I
can help?”

“Perhaps. That is my hope. The position of Muraji was never meant to be held alone; it has always been too much for one person to cope with. When I began there were three of us. But the others were old and sick. In only a year I was alone, and have remained so ever since. Should you refuse I shall struggle on, even though my sanity is slowly being chipped away.”

Despite her face being a stone mask, Markus could not fail to pick up the intense emotion in her voice. He sat down beside her. “Is there no one within the order who can help?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. Once you choose a path, it is impossible to change direction. Even if someone is willing, they could not pass through the arch. Its magic works only once for each person.”

“So are you telling me that every new leader you have is a novice to the order?” This was astonishing news.

“Yes. It is meant to give a fresh perspective to leadership and help us find a true path into each new age. In the past, there were experienced Muraji already in place to provide the necessary wisdom to newcomers. The young and the old would work together, and the Urazi was all the stronger for it.” She looked directly into his eyes. “And I see you, Markus, as the missing piece needed to help us endure. Your relationship with mage, elf, and dwarf can be precisely what we need to find our place in the next age. The experience you bring is truly unique. So I ask you: Will you join us? Will you join with me in saving and protecting the keepers of the greatest wealth of knowledge in all the world?”

He looked back to the arch. What would Lylinora think of this? Would she accept him as a member…a leader...of the most feared order in Lumnia? “If I agree, what will happen?” he asked.

“Assuming you don’t die or go mad, we shall map out a plan that best serves the fight against Shinzan. For the Urazi, this will mean eliminating key leaders and those who facilitate the ever growing strength of the Emperor.”

“And if I choose to touch the eye instead?”

“It will be the same. Only you will not be aware of what we are doing. And we won’t have the benefit of your experience in dealing directly with the Empire.”

Markus closed his eyes. The voice of Specter was silent. “I’ll do it,” he said after a brief moment of thought.

There was no doubt this was the best way for him to protect all those he loved. Martok must have known he would feel like this after knowing all the facts. The sly bastard.

“Good.” Her expression was one of utter relief.

“Is there some sort of ritual or rite?”

“You can pray to your ancestors if it helps,” she replied, her tone now suddenly almost light-hearted. “But other than that, no. You just step through and come out the other side.”

“What will I see?”

“It depends on the person. I won’t lie. The arch exposes the deepest parts of your spirit. It brings your worst nightmares to life in a way that most people can’t handle. For some it drives them insane, while others…well…it wounds them far more deeply. Life simply fades from their bodies.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “But if you make it through, your spirit will be whole again. That is the one thing I can tell you with absolute confidence. Whatever torments you will be gone.”

Markus looked at her doubtfully. “I wish that were possible. But what I have seen and done can never be forgotten.”

Estella smiled. “I didn’t say you’d forget. You will either be ruined, or you will be healed.”

After drawing in a long cleansing breath, Markus pushed himself to his feet. “Then let’s not waste any more time.”

It was only when he was standing directly in front of the arch that Specter's voice suddenly came thundering into his mind.
Don’t do this
.
It’s a trap. You’ll get us killed, you fool
. A grin crept up, banishing all fear. This was certainly a different Specter. This time it was
he
who was afraid.

“Good luck,” said Estella.

Markus grinned at her and then stepped forward.

Specter’s voice was still screaming in his head. Begging him to stop. Cursing him as a fool. But it was settled. There was no turning back now.

A familiar combination of odors invaded Markus’ nostrils...odors that brought memories he had tried so hard to forget flooding back. It was the stench of dusty earth, of human waste, and of the decaying bodies belonging to those whose strength had finally abandoned them. The accompanying cacophony of hammer strikes and shouts of the slave drivers sent shivers down his spine.

He was standing at the mouth of a dimly lit tunnel. Behind him was a row of empty cages and dozens of wagons filled to the very top with copper ore. The six armed men standing nearby seemed blind to his presence as they talked and let forth stupid laughter while passing around a bottle of whiskey. Markus had sampled this locally distilled liquor once. Though it was the smallest of sips, the foul taste had very nearly caused him to instantly empty his stomach.

“So this is it?” he mocked. “You’re showing me my life as a slave? You’ll have to do better than that if you want to break me.”

“This is only the beginning, you fucking idiot,” came a voice from inside the tunnel.

A moment later a figure appeared. One with which he was all too familiar. It was as if a twin had been created of his former self. The beard he wore only barely covered the scars given to him by the elves. He was clad in the old black leathers he always wore when carrying out an assignment. The daggers and short sword were the same as well, as was the tiny pouch on his belt containing a few choice poisons – just in case.

There was no need for any introduction. “Specter,” he spat.

“Who did you expect? Your dead mother? Oh, I know. Maybe you thought Lylinora would show up and tell you that everything would be just fine; that she’ll love you no matter what.” He looked Markus over and sneered. “How you lasted a day without me, I’ll never know. You’re weak and pathetic. And it’s time you were gone for good.”

“Being that this is all happening inside my head, I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere,” he shot back. “So you can just go straight to hell.”

“Being trapped with you has already been hell. But all that ends now.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I told you not to come here,” Specter said, shaking his head.

From the depths of the tunnel Markus could hear chains rattling and the crack of a whip driving men onward. The sun was setting, which meant the working day was mercifully over. As the first slave came into view, he was reminded of how utterly exhausted he would be at the end of each shift. His muscles would ache so badly that even the cold steel of the cage felt like a feather bed when grabbing whatever sleep was possible.

The men were covered in thick grey mud and grime. Their vacant expressions and dead eyes said everything about them. These were men without hope or a future aside from a slow and very painful death. No one ever made it out of the mines alive.

It was then he caught sight of his younger self. Unlike the others, he was still strong. They had yet to break his will.

“This must be less than a year after I was brought here,” remarked Markus. “Hard times.”

“Yes, they were,” agreed Specter. “It was before you were broken.”

Markus huffed. “These bastards never broke me.”

“You’re right. They didn’t. That came later. But unless I’m mistaken, today is the day that sets the tone for your life.”

Markus cocked his head. “Nothing that happened here ever did anything but make me more determined to live. Hell, back then I was still thinking Ethan might come to save me.”

“You
still
think that,” he chided.

The jibe was ignored. It was only in his head, after all. Specter was nothing more than a part of his own mind. A manifestation of his own guilt and anger. Markus switched attention to the image of his former self. He seemed strong and confident, with head held high and shoulders straight. He was the very epitome of power and cunning.

The slaver and guards forced each of the shuffling workers into their cages, packing them so tightly together they scarcely had room to sit. Markus recalled the way he could feel the muscles of whoever he happened to be leaning against twitch and jerk from overexertion. It had been important to remain awake until after their food had been brought. Those who fell asleep often lacked the strength to continue the following day.

Seeing the old man leaning on the bars beside his younger self caused another memory to surface. One that he had all but cast aside.

“Yes. This was the day,” Specter said. “You remember now, don’t you?”

Markus kept his focus on the scene before him. The old man was staring blankly through blurry eyes. He looked almost dead but for his hands, which trembled slightly as they poked pathetically out between the bars.

When the slaver approached holding a large bucket filled with boiled meat and hunks of stale bread, the cages erupted into a mad flurry to seize the best position. Several fights broke out as the starving men did their best to get to the food before it ran out. Markus was strong and was always able to get himself enough to eat. But others, particularly the very young or the old, could easily go hungry if luck was not on their side.

The old man was too weak to stand, but being that he was already sitting alongside the bars, he was in a good spot and was among the first to receive a portion.

“You maggots are pathetic,” barked the slaver. “You let a decrepit old waste of space like this take food from your mouths. Not a pair of balls among you.”

His sneering words spurred the old man to life. Clutching the precious bread and meat to his chest, he hissed and spat curses at everyone in the cage. Not that this was really necessary. In truth, most of the men close by were far too weak or exhausted to be much of a threat to anyone. Not even someone as vulnerable as him.

“You there,” called the slaver, pointing at Markus. “You’re one of the fresh ones. How would you like an extra portion and a blanket?”

Markus eyed the man cautiously. It was a bad idea to speak, so he simply nodded.

“Kill that old fucker for me and you’ll get it.”

Markus hesitated for several seconds.

“Look at you,” Specter mocked. “Scared stiff of an old man.”

“I wasn’t scared and you know it.”

Realizing his peril, the old man tried to scurry away, but had nowhere to run. Throwing any indecision aside, Markus leapt on top of him, wrapping his hands tightly around the scrawny throat. It took less than a minute for all trace of life to leave the aging body. The others in the cage immediately backed away as far as they possibly could when Markus picked up the food his victim had dropped and made his way to the corner to eat.

“He never did give us that blanket,” remarked Specter in an almost amused tone. “But no one ever dared to mess with you after that, did they? The fear you instilled felt good. You never got tired of it, did you?”

“I did what I had to do to survive,” he countered. “I took no pleasure from my actions.”

“Not yet. But you soon acquired the taste.”

In the blink of an eye he was standing in the streets of Miltino outside the Link and Bone Tavern. Markus knew this place all too well. Countless nights he had spent sitting at the bar staring into his ale while the anger inside him festered.

“This is much better,” remarked Specter, who had materialized alongside him. “Many good days were spent in this city. And many
great
nights too.” He touched at the scars on his face. “Too bad the elves made seducing women a challenge. But then, Lylinora has taken care of that for you, hasn’t she?”

“Indeed she has,” Markus agreed. “Now the only unwanted scar I carry is you.”

Specter grinned. “We both know that’s a lie.” He walked toward the tavern door. “Too bad none of this is real. I could use a drink right now.”

Markus followed, a sinking feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. With every moment that passed he was realizing more and more that Specter was in fact his strength. His very demeanor and swagger told of a man not to be trifled with. And the scars…he had never seen them through the eyes of the rest of the world. They were gruesome to be sure, but hugely intimidating.

Inside, the tavern was filled to capacity. Laborers and merchants alike frequented this place. Although not set in one of the wealthier districts, it boasted some of the finest ales and liveliest entertainment in Miltino, providing an affordable good time for all common folk. Fights did break out periodically, but never anything serious. Markus could only remember three deaths, two of which he had been responsible.

He caught sight of Specter standing in the far corner and eased in beside him. Those nearby took no notice of them at all. Markus assumed it was because they could not be seen and confirmed this by trying to speak to a serving maid as she skipped nimbly through the crowd.

“Look at you,” said Specter, pointing to a table off to their left. “Over there with a wench in your lap. Those were the days, eh?”

Markus repressed a smile. “I was young. And I didn’t look like you yet.”

“True. And you were still full of hope.” He clicked his tongue. “Poor guy. You’re about to learn a hard lesson.”

A slightly built young man with ratty brown hair and a hook nose pushed his way through to the table and plopped down in a chair.

“Petris,” murmured Markus. “I never did like that kid.”

“They want to see you,” Petris said. Though out of breath, he had a glow of excitement about him.

“Who does?” his former self asked, clearly irritated that his conversation with the comely young lass was being disturbed.

Petris eyed the girl pointedly. With a sigh, Markus lifted her off his lap. “Come back in a few minutes, my love,” he told her, flashing a bright smile.

The girl leaned down and kissed his cheek before sauntering off into the crowd.  

Unable to contain himself any longer, Petris spoke the moment she was gone. “The Hareesh have a job for us.”

Markus was unimpressed. “So what? I'm sick of their jobs. They never pay worth a damn. Tell them if they need a debt collecting they can get someone else to do it.”

“You don’t understand. This time it’s different. They say if we do this one, they’ll make us members. You hear that? Me and you members of the dreaded Hareesh.”

Now his attention was hooked. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” he replied. “I heard it from Lex himself. Well…not Lex. But Thrace gave me his word. And everybody knows he’ll be leading the Hareesh soon enough. Lex is too old to keep going much longer.”

Markus rubbed his chin. “How much does it pay?”

“Pay? What the hell does it matter? We do this and we’re in.”

“What’s the job?”

Petris looked around the room and then pulled a scrap of folded parchment from his pocket. “The details are here.”

“You wrote them down?” Markus groaned. “Fool! You never put things like that in writing.” Before Petris could say another word, he snatched the parchment from his hand and opened it. As he read, his face visibly tightened.

“You’ll do it, right?” his companion pressed.

Markus began ripping the instructions up into tiny pieces. “I need to think about it.”

“What’s there to think about? This is our way in. It's too good a chance to miss.”

“I don’t know. Why would they send
us
? They already have people for this kind of thing, don’t they?”

“Who cares why? This is our chance to be somebody. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of eating garbage and living on a dirt floor.”

Markus stared into his mug for a short time. He then gave a heavy sigh. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

Petris beamed with excitement. “Excellent. I’ll meet you back here tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Thrace said it has to be tonight.”

After another brief hesitation, Markus nodded his agreement.

The young woman was back with him the instant Petris departed. But it was plain he was in no mood for pleasurable company any longer.

“Too bad,” said Specter. “I bet she would have been fun.”

Markus watched his younger self for a while longer before exiting the tavern. He knew what was coming, and the prospect of facing it was more than he could bear.

As he passed through the door, he found himself suddenly transported to one of the city's residential districts. Though not as pleasing to the eye as some of the wealthiest areas, it was clean and well lit - a suburb mostly inhabited by merchants and skilled craftsmen. It was well after midnight and the streets were empty.

Markus spotted his younger self crouched behind a shrub a few yards away together with Petris. They were staring at the lit window of a modest, two story dwelling.

“You were such an amateur,” remarked Specter. “Look at you. You’re terrified. And that miserable twit Petris is no better.”

“Of course I was terrified,” Markus retorted. “I'd never done anything like this before.”

Specter laughed. “Never have truer words been spoken. I assume you know what’s about to happen.”

Markus nodded. He most certainly did. This was the night that changed him forever. “I’m not going to watch,” he stated.