Morticai's Luck (34 page)

“They’ll accuse you of stealing the kings’ bright moment,” the corryn scout teased.

“Huh?”

“Look,” Evadrel said, pointing to where the two kings rode side by side. The kings had removed their helmets and now wore their crowns. “They want to be properly attired when we join the Northmarch.”

Morticai smiled. “I’m sorry, Evadrel. It’s just that Coryden … Coryden doesn’t know …”

Evadrel nodded, knowingly. “I understand. Coryden was very upset—we all were.”

Although they had dropped back behind the kings, the two Northmarchers were still in the fore of the huge force behind them.

“What are you doing out here?” Nelerek asked as his horse trotted up beside them.

“Morticai was trying to be the first to meet the Northmarch scouts,” Evadrel said.

Nelerek handed Morticai his newly refilled water skin.

“Can’t leave you alone for a minute, can I?” Nelerek teased.

“Hey!” Morticai complained. Evadrel and Nelerek laughed.

“Look!” Morticai pointed ahead of them. In the distance, a small group of horsemen approached.

“Our scouts!” Evadrel exclaimed. “Stay here, Morticai. I will bring you all the news you wish as soon as the scouts have finished greeting the kings.” Urging his horse forward, he rode toward the crowd of nobility.

“Why does there have to be all this ceremony?” Morticai muttered.

Everything came to a halt as the scouts met with the kings. Soon after, Evadrel emerged from the crowd with three of the Northmarch scouts in tow. As they approached, Morticai noted their grim countenances.

“Something’s happened,” he informed Nelerek, and he urged his horse forward. He could hear the hoof beats of Nelerek’s horse coming up behind him.

“What’s wrong?” Morticai asked as he reached the group of Northmarchers.

The three scouts, strangers to Morticai, stared at his eyes in amazement. Ignoring them, Morticai turned to Evadrel. “What has happened?” he repeated.

“We were ambushed by the Droken,” Evadrel explained. “We lost Commander Jarviel and almost a third—“

Morticai inhaled sharply. “Coryden?”

“They don’t know.”

One of the human scouts found his tongue. “I know of him,” the scout told him, “and I think I saw him afterwards, but I’m not certain. I’m sorry.” He looked down, the pain in his eyes obvious, “We’re still not positive who did and did not die. I’m certain that Lord Seabrook knows; he has the list of names. There were some who rode in several hours afterward—men who had been separated from us. We didn’t spend much time in camp; we spent most of the night hunting down the Droken filth who ambushed us.”

“When did this happen?” Nelerek asked.

“Last night, just before nightfall.”

“How far is the camp?” Morticai asked.

“Just a few miles—“

“Let’s go,” Morticai said.

“Aren’t … aren’t you the one the Droken captured?” one of the scouts asked Morticai.

Morticai smiled grimly. “Yes, I am.”

“But—“

“It’s a long story, okay?” Morticai replied. “Look, what about Berret Heimrik? Do any of you know him?

“Aye,” another spoke up. “I know ’im, an’ I saw ’im last night—Berret’s alive for certain.”

“Thank Glawres!” Morticai said.

“Are you going back?” Nelerek asked the scouts.

“Aye, we are.”

“Then we’ll come with you,” Morticai stated.

“I’ll inform the Inquisitor,” Evadrel said, starting back toward the group of nobility with whom the Inquisitor was riding.

* * *

The Northmarch camp was abuzz at the news that the Dynolvan and Watchaven armies had joined. Throughout the camp, anxious faces showed relief as the news spread. Their haggard faces still bespoke the sorrow that the previous night’s defeat had laid upon them.

Evadrel threaded his way through the camp, leading Nelerek and the anxious Morticai to the spot he’d been told was assigned to Coryden’s patrol. They entered Kirwin’s camp, and at every tent along the way, heads turned to watch as Morticai passed.

“I can see this is going to be a problem,” Morticai said under his breath.

“They’ve all heard you were tortured, Dyluth,” Nelerek replied. “You’d stare too, if you’ll think about it.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Morticai admitted, “but it’s giving me the chills.”

They came to the tent that bore Coryden’s standard, only to find it empty. Fighting back the lump in his throat, Morticai sank down onto a stool that stood in the middle of the otherwise empty tent.

“I’ll find someone,” Evadrel said, leaving him with Nelerek.

Morticai closed his eyes to avoid Nelerek’s concerned stare. A moment later, he heard the tent’s door flap fall against the pole. He reopened his eyes; Nelerek had stepped outside and stood looking this way and that. Morticai stood up and stepped outside. Nelerek glanced at him briefly, and then looked away again.

The thought came to Morticai slowly, as if from a great distance:
He’s trying to give me room alone to grieve.

“I’m going to check this way,” Morticai said absently. “Why don’t we go a little ways and meet back here.”

“If you wish,” Nelerek said quietly.

Morticai moved away from him, wandering slowly down the path. He was about to turn back when he spotted …
“Coryden!”

Coryden spun as though an arrow had pierced his back. A bandage wound across his forehead, and a sling bore his splinted right forearm. His mouth opened and moved wordlessly.

Morticai smiled. “I know the eyes are a bit different,” he said, “but they work.”

Coryden blinked and ran up to him. He reached out to grab Morticai by the shoulders, but immediately winced and lowered his right arm back into the sling. He finally formed a word:
“How?”

“Well, they say it’s a miracle,” Morticai said.

“I’ll say,” Coryden whispered, and then hugged him with his left arm.

“When I saw your empty tent,” Morticai said, “I feared you’d died.”

Coryden’s eyes clouded with tears. “We lost six,” he said, “and we have even more wounded—but I think they’ll make it.”

“I’m sorry, Coryden. I know it’s not right, but I almost feel like I’ve caused all of this.”

“No,” Coryden said, his expression fierce. “We know who caused it—the damned Droken. If you hadn’t discovered what you did, and if we hadn’t been able to warn the kings, the slaughter would have been far, far worse.”

“There they are!”

Evadrel, with Nelerek and the rest of the patrol, approached from the direction of the tent. An awkward silence quickly replaced their excitement. Despite having been forewarned about Morticai’s new eyes, they stood in awe of the actual evidence of the miracle.

It was Berret who finally spoke. “I’ve always known you were stubborn, Morticai,” he said, shaking his head, “but this beats them all.”

A crooked smile crept slowly onto Morticai’s face. That smile spread to the others, and then they all broke into relieved laughter.

It felt good to be back.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Well, it looks like we made it here in time,” Morticai said. The coach stopped, its driver hurrying to help Richard unload the Inquisitor’s trunks from the top luggage rack. The Watchaven dock was crowded with passengers waiting to board the ship bound for Menelcar. Coryden and Dualas had come with Morticai to bid farewell to Rylan, Geradon, and Richard before they set sail.

Rylan clapped his hand onto Morticai’s shoulder. “It was your work that truly led to the defeat of the Droken, Morticai,” he said, somberly. “I am sorry that the kings did not give you true credit for it—you deserved more.”

Morticai blushed and glanced away. “I’m glad they didn’t,” he replied. “All I wanted was to be able to go back to the Northmarch, and they did give me that.”

“Have you had any problems from Commander McFerrin?” Geradon asked.

“No,” Morticai said with a lopsided smile.

Coryden said, smiling, “I think he’s a little unsure of Morticai, now that a miracle has been worked on him.”

“As well he should,” Rylan said. “And has your arm fully healed, Captain?”

“Yes, it seems to have,” Coryden replied, stretching out his right arm. “I know I’m still favoring it a bit, but that is nothing more than habit, now.”

“What have they decided to do about the Droken army?” Geradon asked. “I heard the kings talking about charging the Northmarch with the mission of searching out their homeland.”

Dualas replied, “I do not know if they will go that far. I had heard, however, that the Faith was considering giving the Northmarch the authority to investigate any Droken activities which might affect the security of the kingdoms.”

Rylan smiled. “Ah … yes, I believe that is under discussion,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “I wish I could remain to see what becomes of it.”

“Maybe they’ll let you come back,” Morticai suggested.

“Perhaps,” Rylan agreed. “And have you grown accustomed to your new eyes, Morticai?”

“Yeah,” he said. “At least,
I
have.” He looked down. “I still get stared at a lot.”

“Much of that will pass, Morticai,” Rylan said. Then, in a more concerned tone, he said, “You will, I trust, remember everything I told you?”

Morticai looked at him blankly.

Rylan sighed. “About the Droken, and how they do not forget?”

Morticai sighed, heavily. “I will, I promise.”

Rylan nodded. “I spoke to you about that before you were captured. It is even more imperative now. You must remember everything that I told you. King Almgren may have already forgotten the role you played in saving his kingdom, but the Droken will not. The color of your new eyes will make you an easy target if you are not very careful.”

Morticai looked down. “I know,” he muttered.

Rylan looked to Coryden and Dualas. “I say this before your friends, because it is they who can most help you in future days, Morticai. Be mindful,” he told them, “that the Droken may well send another assassin after Morticai.”

Coryden glanced at Dualas. Dualas, apparently not surprised by Rylan’s warning, nodded. “We will be watching,” he said.

“If ever Morticai needs help,” Rylan continued, “the Faith is there for him. Should he ever need sanctuary, the Faith is there. He may need to hide occasionally, until danger has passed. And if I have learned anything while I have been here,” he said as a smirk crept onto his face, “it is that it shall probably take both of you to keep him out of trouble.”

Morticai looked up, blinking. “Hey! I’m not lookin’ for trouble, y’know,” he defended himself.

“Oh, yes, you are,” Coryden countered.

Rylan smiled. “We will miss you all. Indeed, I wish I could take Sir Dualas with us.”

“Thank you, Inquisitor,” Dualas said, “but my place is with the Northmarch.”

“I understand,” Rylan said. “I thank you for the good service you gave me when I needed it.”

The bosun’s mate lowered the rope at the bottom of the gangplank, a signal that the ship would soon be setting sail. Around them, the crowd began filing up the plank.

“You’d best board before they leave without you,” Coryden said. “The tide waits for no man, not even an Inquisitor.”

“Indeed,” Geradon said. He hauled up the bag that held his most precious books and adjusted the strap on his shoulder. Richard carried another such bag, slung easily over his broad shoulder.

“May all of the blessings of the Levani continue to fall upon you,” Rylan said in farewell.

“And may Glawres guide your ship,” Morticai replied. “Fair winds, fast passage, and the grace of the sea to you, until we meet again.”

Coryden raised his eyebrows in surprise. He’d never before heard Morticai utter a formal blessing.

* * *

The crisp air of Fading swept through the sumptuous palace. Prince Luthekar stood at the open window, his hands clasped loosely behind his back as he watched the leaves swirl past in the courtyard below. His losses had been less than they might have been, and yet they were still devastating. Like a beaten dog, he had been forced to return to Cuthaun.

His hands clenched. He had lost the work of years. It had required the effort of thousands to lay in the supplies his army had used traveling to and from the northern kingdom. He had lost three hundred men and almost two thousand good horses when the Northmarch had attacked his force. And that had forced him to expend a thousand men as a rearguard to hinder the Northmarch and cut his need for supplies. He’d lost even more soldiers to starvation and exposure during the desperate retreat.

But worse than any number of men lost, he had lost his chance for surprise. Now, reports came from within the northern kingdoms that the Northmarch had been empowered to investigate and expose the source his army. He smiled coldly. It was unlikely that the Northmarch could manage the grueling overland trek to his lands. They were welcome to try it. Death would await the survivors at journey’s end.

He frowned again, and the red anger tinged his eyes. Worst of all, the scum who dealt him this terrible defeat lived. Luthekar strode to his desk and picked up his quill. He had given much thought to how the proclamation should read.

He wrote:

Be it known to all that on this day, the second day of Kenaf, of the year of Droka, two thousand, one hundred and seventy-three, I, Prince Luthekar, do hereby proclaim the following:

A full-blooded corryn, known last to be in the human kingdom of Watchaven, called Morticai of the Northmarch,
also called Dyluth, is marked for utter destruction for the following crimes:

Purposely and wantonly searching us out to do us harm;

Giving his soul to Glawres and allowing Glawres to possess him;

Joining with the Inquisition, to fight against us;

Joining the Arluthians, who are sworn to our utter destruction;

Attacking one of Droka’s own sons, with intent to kill;

Causing a faithful Dyagon to be slain;

Murdering our High Priest in Watchaven;

Causing a faithful servant, Prince Edris of Watchaven, to be captured, and hanged;

Causing a faithful servant, Lord Danvek of Dynolva, to be captured, and hanged;

Causing the destruction of our temple in Watchaven;

Giving word to the enemy, thereby alerting the Northmarch to our plans; and

Giving word to the sovereigns of the northern kingdoms, thereby alerting them to our plans.

Further, be it known that this corryn is the height of a human, with black hair, streaked with silver, and with eyes of an unnatural, deep-violet color, given to him by the foul Glawres.

Should any deliver to me Morticai, alive or dead, a reward of
25,000 korun shall be given. So it has been sworn before Droka.

Sworn this day, by my hand
:

Luthekar, Prince of Droka