Messenger of the Dark Prophet (The Bowl of Souls: Book Two) (51 page)

“Indeed, Master,” Rudfen said, though no emotion pierced his scarred features.

“Very well, I shall forgive Hamford’s absence this one time. This is quite kind of me, don’t you think? Yes, but let him know that I will not tolerate this behavior in the future. Oh no.
No-no.”
He looked to Kenn. “Report to me then, my Dungeon Keeper. Are there any situations I need to be informed of?”

Kenn jumped as if startled, still staring at the twisted fingers on
Comby’s
corpse. “Well, Master, the dungeon is still overcrowded.
Uh, especially the deeper levels.
I have had to chain many prisoners in the corridors because the cells are full.”

“Hmm, well-well. I shall have to think on that, won’t I?” the wizard mused. “What about my special prisoners? I'm afraid that I haven't had the time to visit them.”

Ewzad's special prisoners were men that he had personal vendettas with. In all other parts of the dungeon, Kenn was given full responsibility over the prisoner’s punishments, but when it came to the duke’s special prisoners, he was only to follow the duke’s specific instructions. Disobeying this rule had gotten Kenn in trouble several times since he had been given the position of Dungeon Keeper. The punishments had been harsh.

“Yes, about that.” Kenn cleared his throat. “There have been some problems.”

“Have there?
My-my.”
Ewzad raised his eyebrows.

Kenn cringed.
“Nothing major, Master.
It's just some small things.”

“Small things?
Small things, you say?” The words were syrupy sweet, but the duke’s eyes glowed with anger. “There are no small things! Not in my castle! Not with my special prisoners! Do you hear me?” He pointed one writhing finger with a surge of power and Kenn doubled over in pain, clutching his stomach.

“Yes, Master. Sorry, Master. Please . . .”

Finally, Ewzad released him with a sigh. “Oh dear me, Kenn, the stress you put me through. It's horrible, isn't it, Rudfen?” The scarred man stood in silence as Kenn slowly straightened up. “Ah, well. It's over now, so please, finish your report if you would. What are these ‘problems’ you are running into with my special prisoners?
Hmm?”

 “Well, the king's soldiers that survived the orc attack are mostly dead. Several of them refused to eat, and I am also afraid that Kyle got a bit overexcited and two of them died while in the torture chambers. Only two of them are left and one of those is the captain. Uh, Demetrius is his name I think.”

“
Hmph
! Oh, my.
He would be the one to live I suppose,” Ewzad said. When the king’s soldiers had unexpectedly come back triumphant from the ambush that Ewzad had set up, the wizard had been furious. Even though the soldiers had taken heavy losses, they had succeeded in killing half of the ambushing goblinoids before scattering the rest. In his fury, Ewzad had ordered the surviving soldiers sent into the dungeons.

“Um, there is also a problem with the group that was brought in a week ago.” Kenn said.

“Oh?
Who?”

“The two men and the ogre that were brought down from the mountains last week, sir.
You had them ordered to the lower levels, Master. They were to be tortured into submission . . .”

Ewzad waived absently.
“Yes-yes.
I have plans for them. What is it? Have you been having trouble with the ogre?”

“No, Master. The ogre isn't much of a problem. He just sits in his cell and weeps. It’s the two humans. I
mean,
one of them I’m not sure about. The skinny one seems to be quiet. But it’s the other one, the Dead One. He's the main problem.”

“The ‘Dead One’ you say?”

“That’s what the orcs called him when they brought him to the dungeons. They said that he lay as though dead during the journey and yet he still killed six of them with his bare hands when they got too close to his cage. Well, since he has been here . . .” Kenn cleared his throat and his eyes darted about nervously, not meeting his master in the eye. “He has killed seven guards. But don't worry, master, they are easily replaced.”

“Seven?” Ewzad Vriil's eyes blazed. “Blast you!
Seven of them?
Seven of my dungeon guards?
Dear, dear Kenn, how is it that one prisoner could wreak such havoc under your care?”

“Master, it is not my fault!” Kenn fell to the ground and groveled. “Somehow, he got hold of a metal wire of some kind. Maybe it was hidden in his clothes, I don't know, the orcs didn't find it and he was so quiet that I didn’t worry, but then we found two orc guards outside of his cell with their heads . . . d-detached.”

Kenn’s words flowed together in a constant stream. “At first we didn’t know how it happened. We figured that you had let one of your monsters loose or something. Then when I sent Lug and
Dwan
to take the bodies away, I heard screaming and ran back down the corridor. When I got there, Lug was howling and grabbing his shoulder and there was blood everywhere.
Dwan
tried to help him and I saw the Dead One’s hand shoot through the bars and snap
Dwan’s
neck. Then Lug’s arm just fell off and I saw a silvery cord slide back through the bars. Now no one dares to go past that door. Two more guards have died while trying.”

“Then freeze him, you fool! You have a wand. Freeze him and take his weapon away. Then send him to the torturer until his spirits are broken!”

Kenn pressed his face to the hem of Ewzad’s robe. “I’m so sorry, Master! I have tried! I have sent men down there, but that is how the other two guards died. Now no one will go. The only one that the Dead One doesn’t kill is
Ralvo
, the old guard that brings the food. So I tried to make
Ralvo
do
it, but the Dead One wasn’t fooled and warned him off.”

“Tamboor the Fearless.”
Rudfen spoke from the shadows. “That is the name of the human that Kenn calls the ‘Dead One’. Hamford recognized the man and told me who he was.”

“Ah, good.
Rudfen, you never disappoint,” Ewzad said. “And what do you know about this man, this killer of my guards?
Hmm?”

“He is one of the greatest swordsmen that the
Dremaldrian
Battle
Academy
has ever produced. He is a deadly enemy, but I don’t think that he did all of this. Surely he knows how to fight with his hands, but the garroting wire, that isn’t Tamboor’s style. It is an Assassin Guild trick. Perhaps the other man in the cell with this Tamboor is an academy graduate too.”

With a snarl, Ewzad kicked Kenn away. “You placed both of those humans in a cell together?”

“Like I said, Master, the dungeon is crowded. I was more worried about getting the ogre in a separate cell than the two humans!”

“Silence!
You may disturb the princess, and that wouldn't do, would it?” Ewzad's fingers writhed wildly with his anger. “Now, Kenn, I will give you one final chance to correct your stupidity. I am far too busy to deal with small matters like this. I have a dukedom to run and an army to command, and so, so many-many plans of my own. If you force me to deal with this myself, just remember this. Seven dungeon guards can be easily replaced, but so can one Dungeon Master.”

“Thank you, Master! You are most kind, Master,” Kenn whimpered.

“That is true. That is true, isn’t it? Now if your report is finished, I must go. My dear Elise is waiting for me.”

Kenn crawled forward on the rough rock floor. “Wait, Master. There is one more thing. One request I have.”

Ewzad paused. “Oh? A request, you say? My-my, you have a request from me after such a blatant failure?”

“
Th
-there is a prisoner that you brought in three days ago.
A boy from Reneul.
Th
-the one you brought in for killing Huck. Well, I knew him at the Training School, an-.”

“You aren't trying to get me to let him go are you?
Because that would not be proper, not proper at all.
I have promised him pain and death, and that is all he shall have, oh yes.”

“Of course, Master. He is no friend of mine. He is my enemy. He humiliated me and deserves the pain and death that you promised him. I-I'm just asking that you let me be the one to do it.”

“My-my.”
The duke chuckled. “What a vengeful little man you are. How can I say no to such a hate-ridden plea?”

“
Th
-thank you Master,” Kenn said and with his forehead pressed to the floor, Ewzad could not see the grin on his face.

As Ewzad turned to leave he had one more thought.
“Oh, Kenn?

“Yes, Master?”

“I have an answer to one of your problems. Why don’t we kill two goblins with one arrow?”

“O-of course Master . . . how?”

“Release my dear Talon into the dungeons tonight and bar all exits. Leave open one cell door out of every five. By morning I believe that our little overpopulation problem will be solved. After all, Talon needs the exercise.”

Chapter Thirty Three

Gwyrtha paced back and forth near the edge of the campsite, impatiently kicking up snow and leaves. Her focus never left Justan and every moment that she was awake her eyes were fixed on his position.
Every once in a while, she would let out a sound that was a mix between a whine and a growl.

It had been three days since Justan’s friends left the city of
Dremald
in search of his captors, and the weather was steadily getting colder. Their path had been taking them higher in elevation until they were close to the edge of the
Trafalgan
Mountains
. A large snowfall had caught up to them on the beginning of the second day and they had been miserable ever since.

“She is still looking in the same direction.” Qyxal said from within the cowl of his cloak, his breath leaving frosty trails in the air.

In the beginning, they had been sure that Justan’s captors had left just ahead of them. Their hope was that they would be able to overtake them quickly. But Qyxal hadn’t been able to find recent signs of a group of soldiers on the road. The only thing that kept them convinced that Justan had been taken in this direction was Gwyrtha’s unending gaze.

Gwyrtha let out another whining growl.

“
Dag
-nab it, can’t she be quiet for a gall-
durn
minute?” Lenny grumbled, stirring his pot of pepperbean stew. He looked at Qyxal. “I’m tired of
followin
’ these varmints! Where’d you think they are?”

“The last sign of passage I saw was a day old, but that was yesterday and the snow has obliterated the trail on the road,” Qyxal replied. “Zambon is down at the road as we speak looking for any trace that remains, but I doubt he will find anything worthwhile.” He edged closer to the small fire the dwarf had started, but there was only enough heat to warm the side of his leg.

Since the start of their journey, they had not dared to start a fire for fear of tipping Justan’s captors off to the fact that they were being pursued. Luckily Lenny had brought enough cold provisions to last for at least four days, but cold food in a snowstorm was a bitter cure for hunger and after constant complaining, the dwarf had convinced Qyxal and Zambon that it would be okay to start a small
cookfire
as long as they were able to conceal the light and the wood was dry enough that it wouldn’t leave a smoke trail.

It was hard to find dry wood in the dead of winter and it had taken the dwarf a long time to gather enough for a cooking fire. Qyxal had been against the
cookfire
despite the cold, but now that the dried
pepperbeans
were simmering and the smell wafted up to his nose he felt that it was well worth it.

“
Yer
mouth is
waterin
’ ain’t it, elf?” Lenny’s mouth split in a wide grin beneath his thick mustache. “
Pepperbeans
have that effect on most folks. Especially elves like
yerself
. There’s
somethin
’ ‘bout the smell that uncurls
somethin
’ inside of you. It makes
yer
mouth fill with spit and
yer
belly growl like a hungry troll-lion.”