Death Comes To All (Book 1) (30 page)

Raiste
set down the small pack he had been carrying and sat down on it,
using it as a cushion. "You may as well get comfortable,"
he said. "There's no way of knowing how long it will take Tara
to reach us here. We should be safe enough for now. Not too many
people know of this little site. Most of the merchants, the
legitimate ones, camp right along the roadside. There are some camps
that the guards know about, but I'm fairly certain that this isn't
one of them."

"What
makes you think that?"

Raiste
idly pointed in the direction of a nearby tree. Dozens of peanuts
still hung from it, though it was late in the season for them. If
they weren't roasted soon they would no longer be edible at all.

Roland
didn't need to question any further. If the site they were at was
well known, surely someone would have gleaned every last nut that
still hung from the tree. Instead, only the lowest hanging branches,
those that would have been easier for smaller scavengers to reach,
had lost a noticeable portion of its fruit. The ground was also
littered with nuts that had fallen off of the tree, entirely of their
own volition. Raiste had mentioned before that the mages destroyed
most of the fruits and vegetables that grew wild near the roads.

If
the guards knew of this place, the tree would have been destroyed
already,
Roland surmised.

Roland
walked over and picked some of the nuts that were in reach. He could
pick more once Tara arrived with the packs, as long as there was room
in them to hold the extra food. Later on he would be able to roast
them, assuming the group stopped and made a fire sometime during the
next few days. Whatever he didn't eat right away he could make into
peanut butter, which would keep for several weeks longer. He wished
that he could use a preservation spell, similar to that which the
brindle had used on his potions, but unfortunately he didn't have
magic. As far as he knew Raiste didn't have that sort of spell
either, or if he had the man had never mentioned it.

Thankfully,
he didn't have long to wait before Tara arrived, leading four horses
behind her on long tethers. All four horses carried bags and packs,
though Roland suspected that most of them could have fit on one
animal. Only one of the horses sported a saddle, possibly to fool
anyone who saw Tara leave into thinking she was traveling on her own.
Roland knew that two more saddles would be hidden away in the packs
somewhere. More importantly to him, at least in that moment, was the
dry clothing that would also be found there.

"They
must have about half the guards in the city looking for the two of
you," She informed them quickly, tying the lines she carried to
a tree at the edge of the clearing. "I must have been stopped
five or six times by guards along the road. The guards at the gate
were even worse. I was beginning to thing that they weren't going to
let me out of the city at all. If I had been in a group I wouldn't
have gotten out. They had several people detained at the entrance. It
was obvious to them that I wasn't who they were looking for. Still,
it might not be safe for us to travel the road once we leave here."

“
How
much did you find out about us? Do they have any idea who we are
yet?”

“
I
only overheard bits and pieces. As near as I can tell they don’t
have much of a description of you at all. Just a middle aged man of
average height and build. Roland's description, on the other hand, is
wildly exaggerated. According to what I’ve heard, he’s
about seven feet tall, dressed all in black leather, with flaming red
hair and a ten foot long, magic sword. They guards at the gate said
he cut down nearly thirty men in a matter of a few seconds. You know
how that goes though. It’s only a matter of time before their
descriptions get more accurate. So what really happened out there?”

"Damn,
I had hoped that we would be able to ride,” he said, ignoring
her question for the moment. “We need to move quickly, but it
seems I've once again underestimated Bloodheart's response."
Raiste started rummaging through the packs, finally finding the pack
that he had been carrying on his back before they had arrived at the
city.

Roland
had suspected before that it had been magical in nature, and now his
suspicions were confirmed as Raiste pulled out several small metal
containers, as well as other strange articles that Roland couldn't
quite identify. Roland could hear the sound of liquid sloshing inside
the shining metal vials. Next to the metal containers he added a box,
which opened to display over a dozen wigs of various colors, sizes,
and styles.

There’s
no way that such a small pack could hold so much.

“
Roland
and I will need to change our appearance again. It won't keep the
guards from finding us if they search us closely enough, but I don’t
want any merchants or other travelers we pass to consider us should
the guards question them. We don't want to look like the men they are
searching for. We'll hide Ocean's Hand under some of the packs.
They'll be looking for someone in leather, carrying a huge sword. It
will hopefully be enough to get us passed a glancing inspection. Just
keep in mind that if any guards give a closer look we'll be sure to
be spotted, so don't hide it so deeply that you can't get to it
should you need it. Change your clothes, and we’ll pick you out
a wig of a different color to wear for now."

"You
still haven't told me what happened to you back there," Tara
reminded him in a low, dark voice. Clearly she was still very angry.

She’s
not the only one,
Roland thought sourly.

“
That’s
not something I can answer easily.”

“
According
to what I heard at the gate, you two picked a fight with the city
guards. The only thing you really told me before was that you did a
hit on someone that I didn’t know about and used your name to
get to him. Does that about sum it up?”

"It's
a little more complicated than that," Raiste replied vaguely.

"Then
uncomplicate it," she ordered. "We've been traveling
together for a long time, you and I, and I've never asked much about
your past. I knew you had some vendetta against the mages, and I've
pretty much figured it out that they aren't very fond of you either,
but I never would have suspected the type of response that invoking
your name seems to have brought. You know I wouldn't normally ask,
but now we need to know exactly what sort of danger you've brought
down in us. Who are you really, and what have you gotten us into?"

"I'm
sure you've already guessed some of it," he answered after a
moments pause. "You recall the story of how the mages betrayed
one of their own, a man named Fallon Goldstone, and murdered him and
his entire family?"

"Yes,
I remember the story. You've told it a few times, using it as an
example of how untrustworthy the elite mages really are. What about
it?"

"Then
you also recall how some of those stories claimed that Goldstone's
children might have escaped the assault, spirited away by magic.
Those stories weren't just an example for me. They were the story of
my childhood. As his last, desperate act, knowing that he wouldn’t
be able to defeat those who opposed him, my father used the last of
his magic to transport my sister and I away. We were sent to some of
his supporters, men whom he had discretely worked with and trusted
for years. He couldn't send us to relatives, or any known associates.
The mages would still have been searching for us if they knew we were
alive. They would want to finish what they started.

"My
father's friends, their names are not important, sent my sister and I
in different directions to different people. They believed that as
long as one of us survived, my father's legacy might also. By
splitting us up they believed it increased our chances of escaping
notice. I don't know for certain what happened to my sister, though I
have my suspicions. I'll be keeping those to myself for the moment.
I'm sure you understand my reasons. As for myself, I began training
at an early age, in everything that I thought might be useful in
completing my final goals. I felt that I needed to avenge my father's
death. I still feel that way honestly."

"That
still doesn't explain whatever it was that happened today," Tara
reminded him. "What exactly did you do to get half the city
chasing after us?"

"Like
I said, I knew that Bloodheart would have been looking for me, and
thought that there was a chance that he still was. I needed to get
into one of his government buildings to deal with a man who worked
there. I thought he might have information on what had happened to my
father, and I had other reasons for killing him as well."

"And
what might those reasons have been?" Roland spat angrily.

I’ve
been silent long enough,
he decided.
I have questions of my
own that need answering.

"What
did you think was important enough to walk me into a trap and nearly
getting me killed over, without even bothering to tell me what you
were doing? What was so important that you think that a mistake like
that is acceptable?"

"Aside
from my own reasons, which would have been satisfied by simply
questioning the man, I did it for you actually. Or to be more
accurate, for your friend, Tammie. The man I needed to question just
happened to be the same man that married her mother and, well you
know more or less what else he's done. I found that out from the
bartender, Silus.

“
Killing
Sloan was not a mistake. Not at all. My mistake, which I admit to
freely, was underestimating the number of guards in the building. I
expected a half dozen at most, easy enough to dispatch myself if I
had to. I never expected the shear numbers that we had to deal with
instead."

"So
that was why you used that magic on me, to even out the odds?"

"What
magic are you talking about?" Tara demanded. Roland had
forgotten that they hadn't had the time to tell her about the battle,
or what had taken place during it.

The
only thing she knows are the tidbits of information she gleaned from
the guards on her way out of the gate, and she probably doesn’t
believe a word of those wild tales,
Roland thought.
He
wondered what she was going to say when she found out just how close
to the truth those stories really were.

"I
did not use any magic on you, Roland," Raiste answered
seriously. Before he could continue the group heard a splash,
distracting them. Trick had flown down into the pond, reappearing a
few seconds later with a small fish clutched in its claws.

Turning
away as his friend greedily munched on its small prize, he continued.
"I can't use magic in such a way. Admittedly I do have some
secrets that I've kept hidden, and will continue to do so for now,
but that wasn’t one of them. The magic you felt in that battle
had nothing to do with me in the slightest. It was just as much of a
surprise to me as it was to you."

"What
are the two of you talking about?" Tara asked, confusion evident
on her face. The feral woman knew almost nothing yet about what had
happened to the two of them. With a nod from Raiste, Roland quickly
recounted what had transpired at Sloan's building, trying to recall
the battle and the magic that had infused him to the best of his
knowledge.

"I
don't know what magic he used on me, but I've never felt so powerful
in my life," Roland concluded. "Once his magic had left me,
I felt incredibly drained. I don't think I've ever felt so tired in
all my life. We went straight back to the inn after that, and you
already know everything that’s happened since then."

"I
already told you, I had nothing to do with the magic that gave you
that strength today," Raiste repeated calmly.

"Then
who did?" Roland returned hotly, his anger not in the least
deflated by his companion's demeanor. "I don't think that it was
Sloan who did it. He didn't try to use any magic at all, until he
tried to cast that fire spell on me during the fight. A spell, I
might add, that was somehow absorbed into my blade and then
redirected at another enemy. Even if Sloan had tried to use magic
before then, he certainly wouldn't have done something to make either
of us more powerful. That wouldn't have made any sense. Was the magic
in the blade itself then?"

"There’s
no chance of that. I know the smith who crafted it personally. He's a
canis, and while he's powerful physically, he doesn't have any magic.
He doesn't have the ability to cast spells on his blades. You might
be thinking that perhaps he hired a mage to do that job for him, but
I know that isn't the case here either.

“
The
magic used on blades do things like making them nearly impossible to
break or giving them an edge that never needs sharpened. Magic like
what we saw can’t be used on a blade. That magic just doesn’t
exist, or if it does I’ve never heard of it, and I’ve
studied magic all my life. I've heard about the kind of magic that I
saw surrounding you, though only in reading."

He
gestured for Roland to sit back down, and after a moment he complied.
Tara wordlessly sat down next to him, just as interested in hearing
about this as he was. He was still angry with Raiste for keeping so
much from him, but the more he thought about it, the less angry he
became. Considering that the man they killed was the same man that
had hurt Tammie, he deserved everything that had been done to him and
more.