My Lady Mage: A Warriors of the Mist Novel (30 page)

That last element was interesting, the source of the fear even more so. It pleased Fagan to let his captain suffer in worried suspense for a few seconds more. He poured himself another taste of the duke’s best wine and savored the rich flavor before finally acknowledging Olaf.

“Speak. What has happened that is so drastic you would abandon your post?”

The warrior looked up with his eyes wild and sweat beaded on his skin. His face looked as if it had been raked by claws. What had happened to him? Now Fagan was at least mildly concerned. Olaf was many things, but a coward was not one of them.

“I said speak, Olaf. Don’t leave me standing here playing guessing games. I’m expecting the duke to summon me anon. Rest assured it does not pay to keep him
waiting. Any displeasure he expresses with my tardiness will spoil more than just my day.”

Olaf jerked his head in a nod. “I regret to inform you that the keep was attacked, my lord. Those last two men you hired and that scholar who paid to use the library turned on us, as has Lady Merewen. She has been plotting against you and brought in a band of mercenaries to drive us from the keep.”

Fagan forced himself to set the wine back down on the table rather than give in to the temptation to heave it against the nearest wall or, better still, at Olaf. Calm. He must remain calm. Here in the citadel, Keirthan had spies everywhere. Even something as simple as a broken crystal goblet would reveal far too much to those watching eyes.

He forced a smile, telling Olaf with his eyes to do the same. “It is a pleasant day. Let us walk outside.”

“But—”

“I said outside, Olaf. I find that I’m in need of some fresh air.”

Fagan quickened his steps, hoping to reach the door that opened out into a spacious garden before Olaf once again lost control of his tongue. As they stepped out into the overbright sunshine, he veered off to the left, aiming for a bench that would make it difficult for anyone to get within listening distance without being seen.

It didn’t take long. He let out a slow breath, hoping to ease the tightening coil of anger in his chest. Or maybe it was fear. He watched the flitter of birds in a nearby tree that was covered in blossoms the color of fresh blood. He shuddered at the image before he could stop himself.

He turned his attention in a safe direction, the citadel itself with its plain gray stone walls. He would not let himself think on what those walls hid, especially in the labyrinth that snaked its way under the entire building.

“Compose yourself; then tell me everything. No lies. No excuses. I have neither the time nor the desire to wade through them to get at the truth. It will go better for you to admit your own mistakes as well. I have no patience with fools.”

Olaf leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and stared at the ground. He looked to be hovering at the edge of exhaustion, but Fagan took no pity on him. He needed to know what had happened more than Olaf needed a bath and a bed. Lives depended on it, including Fagan’s own.

“After you left, I warned Lady Merewen she was to remain in the keep and not to go wandering off by herself.”

Olaf looked up briefly. “She defied me and disappeared for most of the day. When she returned, I ordered her to return to her room to await suitable punishment.”

Fagan didn’t call him on the lies. It would do no good; besides, he’d been unable to control her himself. If she weren’t a constant source of frustration, he might even have admired her determination to thwart him at every turn.

“My niece is as she is, Olaf. I know that. Now continue.”

It was if he’d lanced a boil, and all the infection poured out into the fragrant air of the garden. Olaf took him at his word and did nothing to color his description of his own role in the tragedy that had played out three nights ago.

“So let me summarize.” Fagan held up his hand and counted off the significant points. “My keep has been taken over by an unknown number of men-at-arms, all sworn to serve my niece. We have no knowledge of where they came from, but you are convinced they overpowered you with magic.”

He stared at the deep gouges on Olaf’s face. “Oh, yes,
you were attacked by a bird while you were in my niece’s bed, the one place I gave you specific orders to stay away from until we ascertain what purpose the duke has for her. Is that everything? Because, I have to say, Olaf, I’m surprised you managed to escape with your life.”

His captain flinched when Fagan clenched his hand into a fist. “Care to tell me how you and a handful of my men managed to survive against these overpowering forces?”

Olaf’s grimace made it clear that Fagan wasn’t going to like the answer. “There were too few of us to stand against their superior numbers, so I set fire to the stables. In the confusion, we escaped through the front gate. It was the only way we could survive to bring you the news. With your permission, I will return to reclaim your home, but I will need to hire more men.”

Fagan couldn’t believe the man’s idiocy. “You ordered the stables burned?”

It wasn’t really a question, but Fagan was having a difficult time imagining such stupidity. “You do know that my family holds those lands only as long as the horses are content with their treatment. If they should decide we are too weak to protect them, they will leave. When that happens, you will no longer have a job, and I will no longer have a home, much less access to the family wealth.”

“Yes, sir, I understand, but it was that or remain there to die. I felt it was necessary to ensure that at least a few of us survived to warn you of your niece’s treachery. If you had returned to the keep without our warning, you would have been riding into an ambush.”

True. There was that. Fine. For the moment he would let the fool live. Judging from the ripe condition of the man’s clothing, he’d run from the keep with nothing but what he was wearing at the time. That was something else Fagan would have to deal with. He reached for his purse and dumped out a fair number of coins.

“Take this and find rooms for you and the men in one
of the local inns. Once you’re settled, send word where you’ll be. I’ll let you know what my course of action will be once I’ve had a chance to consider all the implications.”

Olaf recognized a dismissal when he heard one. He pocketed the money and rose to his feet. “Thank you, my lord. I will await your orders. I hope you will allow me to fight at your side when you are ready to retake your family home.”

Then he bowed and walked away.

Undoubtedly Olaf would be part of the effort to regain control of the keep, but it was almost guaranteed he wouldn’t survive the fight. If necessary, Fagan would see to it personally.

He noticed a servant hovering on the far edge of the garden, waiting to be noticed. How long had he been there? How much had he heard? It was too late to worry about it.

Fagan waved him forward and held out his hand for the paper the man held clutched in his fingers. His tension warned Fagan who had sent the note. Only Duke Keirthan inspired such fear with a simple summons.

“Thank you. You may go.”

The servant bowed his head but remained rooted right where he stood. “I’m sorry, sir, but the duke made it clear that I was to escort you to his chambers.”

Fagan knew where those chambers were—both of them. The duke used the one off the great hall to greet visitors, to hold court, and to render judgments. Decorated in gilt and gold, it was his public face.

It was the possibility of being summoned to the second chamber that had Fagan’s knees threatening to buckle. Located one floor below the great hall, it was very near the heart of the labyrinth where the duke practiced…whatever dark arts he wielded.

To date, Fagan had only heard rumors. People whispered
of muted screams and echoes of thunder beneath their feet, not to mention the frequent disappearances of both people and animals. As much as Fagan wanted to believe it was all rubbish, there was something different about the duke, something off, that gave all those whispers the weight of truth.

He very much feared he was about to learn the real nature of what kept the duke occupied down below for hours and sometimes days at a time. The man servant cleared his throat, a reminder that Fagan had been dithering too long. It wouldn’t do to keep the duke waiting.

“Lead the way. My life is the duke’s to command.”

As was his death, but he tried very hard not to think about that. Trying his best to look unconcerned, he followed his guide back inside the citadel and down the winding staircase to the chambers below.

The Damned were more at home serving in the deepest shadows and darkest places. But here in the keep, all five warriors had joined the work parties, throwing their superior strength into tearing out the last of the charred and broken timbers in the stable.

Their efforts had gone a long way toward convincing Merewen’s people that the warriors were on their side and not to be feared. Over the past few days, considerable progress had been made. By nightfall, they’d have the stable stripped down to bare bones. The rebuilding would begin in the morning, which should please Merewen.

On the first day after the fire, she had introduced Gideon to the carpenter, who would oversee the repairs. After discussing what would be needed for the stable, Gideon had waved Kane over to join the conversation. He’d had made a list of suggestions meant to increase the security offered by the palisade. At first, the carpenter had been understandably nervous to be in such close proximity to the mage-marked warrior.

But once he realized that Kane not only respected his skills and knowledge but also had considerable experience with carpentry himself, the man had calmed down and made a few suggestions of his own. Gideon had walked away, leaving them to it. Over the past three days, the two had become inseparable, working side by side as they reinforced the palisade that surrounded the keep.

They were almost finished with the modifications, which was a good thing. Merewen’s uncle and his men could appear on the horizon at any time now. Gideon was under no illusions that Fagan would withdraw his interest in the family estate and leave his niece alone.

No, a fight was coming. He felt it in his bones.

It was the not knowing when that battle would begin that had Gideon prowling the bailey and looking for a way to burn off some of his restlessness. Maybe some weapons practice would help. He drew his sword and yelled for the guards to join him. They could all use the training, because he very much feared they would be putting it to good use all too soon.

“F
agan.”

The duke’s voice echoed through the dark, dank passageway. It sounded raspy. Cold. Inhuman, even, but Fagan quickly squashed that thought. Approaching the duke’s private domain was daunting enough without Fagan’s own imagination escalating his fear. Control was important when clear thinking might mean the difference between life and death.

“Yes, my lord. I came just as you requested.”

Actually “ordered” was a better description, but again Fagan settled on the cautious side of discretion. He kept walking forward. How much farther would he have to go to actually find where Keirthan was lurking in this endless tunnel? Finally, it widened out, and the light at the far end was brighter. Fagan instinctively hurried his steps even though in truth he wasn’t all that eager to find the man.

All too soon he reached the point where the passage gave way to an enormous room. The ceiling vaulted high overhead, giving the impression of immense space. Torches illuminated all but the uppermost reaches of the room, their pale, flickering light barely holding back the shadows. A circular fire pit burned hot in the center of the oval-shaped room, making the temperature uncomfortably warm despite being so far underground. Some believed the afterworld for those who transgressed in this one was desolate and cold. This room, with its shades
of darkness and sweltering heat, rang more true to Fagan’s own beliefs.

He hated it on sight.

The duke stood behind the stone altar located in the center of the dais at the far end of the room. The altar was empty and devoid of any decoration except for the sturdy posts located at each corner. The heavy shackles that dangled from them sent a spark of fear shooting straight up Fagan’s spine.

He kept moving, each step demanding more and more effort. He slowed to a stop just short of the stairs that led toward the ornately carved throne located to the right of the altar.

Keirthan finally wiped his hands on a cloth and set aside the knife he’d been polishing. “Ah, Lord Fagan, I see you have found your way to the true seat of my power, a visit that is long overdue.”

Keirthan’s welcoming smile was broad but not at all warm. “Don’t be afraid. Come closer.”

Fagan sketched a small bow before daring to tread on the first step up toward the altar. Keeping his eyes averted from both the knife and the dangling chains, he asked, “How may I be of service, my lord?”

The duke made himself comfortable on the throne. He made no offer to allow Fagan the same courtesy despite there being a small bench near where he was seated. Keirthan leaned forward to look down at him.

“My dear friend, I regret to say that just this morning I have heard some most disturbing news.”

The way the duke’s eyes glittered, reflecting the dancing flame of a nearby torch, had Fagan’s stones drawing up tight in fear.

“News, Sire?”

“Your keep has come under attack in your absence.” Keirthan shook his head in feigned sympathy. “I regret
that circumstances requiring your presence here at court have left your home vulnerable.”

Fagan kept his eyes focused on a spot to the right of the duke’s shoulder, not wanting to make eye contact. He always had the uncanny feeling that Keirthan could see straight through to a man’s soul. The last thing Fagan wanted was for the duke to go rummaging around in his.

Hoping his expression showed the right amount of concern and regret, Fagan acknowledged the truth of what the duke had heard. “I just learned of the attack myself, Sire. The captain of my personal guard rode night and day to bring me the news. I had just sent him off to rest and recuperate from his travels when I received your summons.”