would not stand up to the scrutiny of The Dark One or Nexus but Luca could see no other option. If the plan should go wrong then he would spend the remainder of his life running from both his masters.
Explanations
The room was really not big enough to accommodate eight people. Nikolai had insisted, however, that his explanations be given behind closed doors in case there were any guards nearby. While they had been able to dispatch all the guards they had come across they could not guarantee there were not more waiting for them. Nikolai knew he would have to give his explanation quickly and get on the move once again.
Wulfstan closed the enormous chest and used it as a seat, moving close to the wall to allow Tares to sit next to him. Lara perched on the floor next to Trunk, while Darzan leaned against the closed door and Roulibard sat on the edge of the desk. All, especially Slade, were looking expectantly at Nikolai.
Nikolai tried to gather his thoughts; he was, quite simply, unsure how much to tell the others. Without an explanation of some kind Slade would never trust him enough to continue travelling with him, yet too much information now could jeopardize Nikolai's entire mission.
“This is rather difficult,” he began with a small sigh, “I’m in an awkward position…”
“With all due respect Prince…” Tares interrupted Nikolai.
“Slade, just Slade,” Slade cut in quickly.
“I apologize, Slade but now is perhaps not the best time for the necromancer to explain whatever evil schemes he is up to. I do not wish to sound rude but we are in the midst of attempting a prison break.”
“Tares if you’d shut up for longer than five seconds I'll be able to explain to you why none of that matters.” Nikolai spoke with more heat than he had intended.
He rarely, if ever, lost control. Anger was a poor tool, rage even worse; Nikolai preferred cool, calm logic but something about the minotaur cleric seemed to bring out the worst in him.
“Look, Tares is it?” Slade asked. Tares nodded his large, horned head gravely. “Tares, we’re all obviously in an…” Slade paused, looking for the right word, “unusual situation here. I realize that this probably isn’t the best time but I want to hear Nikolai’s explanations, and to be honest I’m exhausted and I could use a little rest, which Nikolai’s tale will give us, before we go any further.”
“Of course your…” Tares caught himself in time, “Slade. We will listen to what the necromancer has to say if such is your wish.”
“I do wish. Now Nikolai, you better start talking.” Nikolai could see that whatever tentative trust had been building between Slade and himself had been partially eroded, thanks to Tares.
“I was captured in the north, in the Badlands to be precise. I was travelling there, under orders, with Lord Michael Strong,” Nikolai said slowly.
“You lie, necromancer,” Tares began.
“It’s true, Tares,” surprisingly the interruption came from Lara. “I was there,” she looked at Nikolai suspiciously, “but that was months ago.”
“True,” Nikolai continued smoothly even though he was actually quite taken aback. He had been unaware of this little halfling and wondered just how much she knew.
“But what I learned in the Badlands then remains relevant now. Lord Michael and I discovered evidence that suggests a secret army is being formed. Who is behind this or why we were unable to discover. However, I did find out two interesting pieces of information, both of which involved what I believe to be assassination plots. The first,” he paused and looked at Slade, “involved your father, High King Erich. Unfortunately I was unable to find out much more than the fact that someone had ordered Erich killed.”
Slade could feel the blood drain from his face, his heart was pounding and a cold sweat broke out on his brow. This then was what the dream had been about, his father, his king and liege lord was being stalked by an unknown assassin. Slowly Slade turned to face Wulfstan. For the first time since Slade had recognized the warrior it occurred to him to wonder exactly what one of his father’s royal bodyguards was doing behind bars in Ixlan’s most vicious prison.
“You,” Slade spoke slowly, his fear for his father pounding heavily in his blood, “You should’ve been with him. You’re his bodyguard, one of them anyway,” Slade’s innate sense of fairness forced him to make that qualification. His love of his father, however, drove him to his feet without his even being aware of it. Like a man in a dream or a nightmare, Slade walked over to the big warrior. Grabbing hold of the front of Wulfstan’s shirt in his fist he pulled his one time friend to his feet.
“What happened Wulfstan?” Slade was shouting into Wulfstan's face, all thoughts of where he was or the need for silence, completely forgotten in his fear and anger. “Where’s my father?”
“All right, all right,” Wulfstan shouted back, “I failed. Is that what you want to hear?”
“Keep your voices down,” someone hissed.
“What exactly does that mean?” Slade asked, lowering his voice to a whisper as he remembered where they were. He abruptly let go of Wulfstan's shirt. Wulfstan stepped back but was brought up short by the large chest. The warrior ran both hands through his thick, black hair and sat down heavily on the chest. Resting his arms on his knees, Wulfstan put his head in his hands and gave a long, drawn out sigh of pure frustration, guilt and grief. When he began to speak his voice was so low they all had to strain to hear him.
“I was with High King Erich. He had received an invitation to Lashandra. We travelled overland from Anglia to Evemur and then took to the rivers. We were almost to the border.” Wulfstan stopped, and for a moment, it seemed as if he would not go on. “By then we were deep in the dark wood. There was only myself and three other guards. I knew it wouldn’t be enough, I had wanted King Erich to bring more guards or a contingent of Knights but he just said the mission was too important and the need for secrecy too great. So we went, just the five of us. We stopped for the night; I went to get some wood for a fire. I shouldn’t have gone. I should never have left his side. I heard yelling, swords. I rushed back as quickly as I could, I swear I did,” he looked up, obviously appealing to Slade, silently begging the former Crown Prince to believe him. “It was too late. I got back to our camp. The other guards were all dead. I don’t know where King Erich was, or what might have happened to him. I tried to fight but there were just too many of them. They overpowered me and I don’t know why they didn’t just kill me. For a while I guess I was unconscious, when I came to I was in shackles and on my way here.”
“You didn’t see my father’s body?” Slade asked, grabbing onto the only shred of hope Wulfstan’s tale seemed to offer. The warrior merely shook his head, then opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it and closed it again. He knew there was nothing he could say; he had failed in his duty and that failure may well have brought about the death of Slade’s father. For Wulfstan, whose own father had died when he was just a baby, it was a bitter knowledge, for he had loved High King Erich, just as if he had been his own father.
“When? When did this happen?” Slade asked after a long silence.
“Almost a month ago, I guess. If today’s the Sun Ascension that is.” Wulfstan replied. He knew the Sun Ascension festival marked the shortest day of the year, when winter was at its darkest. The attack on King Erich had occurred right at the end of the fall season, when the world turned red and gold and the falling leaves blanketed the ground, although this far north none of the seasons were as clearly defined as they were in the central kingdoms.
“Three months ago was when I was arrested.” Slade repeated, thinking things through. The attack upon his father had then occurred two months later. Turning to Nikolai he said, “You were captured about the same time you said?” It was a statement more than a question. Nikolai never hesitated, he simply nodded agreement. Slade frowned slightly, looking at nothing in particular, still thinking. There was a pattern here, just beyond his r
each, a pattern that might be terribly important. Either way it was time to get out of Diablis and back to Saxenburg.
“Slade, I, I …” Wulfstan began.
“I don’t want to hear it,” Slade cut him off and stood; shaking his head, “let’s just get out of here.”
“I agree, however, I feel I should warn you,” Tares interjected gravely, “I believe this entire prison break is a trap,” Tares then went on to explain the incredible ease with which he and the others had penetrated the prison. When Tares had finished Slade swore softly.
The Silent Hand
“Which brings me to the second piece of information Lord Michael and I were able to uncover,” Nikolai said quietly.
All at once Slade was sure he understood. That was the pattern. He was the second target.
“I was the intended target of the second assassination,” Slade said slowly. Suddenly Nikolai saw his chance. This was his opportunity to convince the others to travel with him, for he knew now that he would need their help, he would not be able to fulfill his mission alone.
“I'm afraid so.” Nikolai looked briefly at Tares before continuing, “That’s why I said earlier the prison break is irrelevant. You were quite right; the whole thing is a trap. Whoever ordered the deaths of King Erich and Slade obviously wanted the