In the dim recesses of her memory, she recalled him holding her head in his hands as he worked to save her. She had been healed before, so she had known what he had been doing. His touch, though, felt different from any healing she had felt before. It had fierce intensity, yet a warmth to it that calmed her and let her relax so that he could do as he needed.
She could remember only bits and pieces of him bent over her, holding her head, as the rain poured down on them. She did remember, though, how much she hurt, and how terrified she had been that she would die there in the dark woods.
Magda didn’t know what had needed healing, but she was aware that for a time she had been on the other side of the veil of life.
Merritt had come after her and brought her back.
“Is it still night?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “It’s morning.”
“Morning?” Magda tried to push herself up on her elbows, but she couldn’t seem to muster the strength. “Merritt, we have to go. We need to get to the dungeon. We need to find that sorceress who defected. If she’s even still alive. If she is, they could execute her at any time.”
Merritt’s hand on her shoulder gently pushed her back down. “I know, but right now you have to rest. I healed you, but if you are to recover, you still need to rest. I can’t do that part for you, and you can’t do anything if you don’t finish getting better, first.”
There was something serious about his tone. She looked up to his face. His eyes revealed the level of his concern. The look in his hazel eyes gave her a ripple of terror.
“Am I going to be all right? Am I going to live?”
A touch of his smile returned. “If you rest. Your body needs sleep to fully recover.”
Magda narrowed her eyes, peering, trying to focus her still-blurry vision to see the sword at his hip. Trying to focus her eyes gave her sharp pains in her temples. She didn’t see the scabbard there at his hip.
Merritt saw where she was looking and gestured. “It’s hung on the chair.”
“Please,” she managed past the pain in her throat. “Can I see it? I want to touch it.”
Merritt scratched his temple. “Sure.”
He went to the chair sitting before the table with the red velvet where the sword used to lie. When he drew the blade from its scabbard hanging on the chair, the room filled with the clear ring of steel. It sounded the same, yet somehow different. The ring had a nature to it that resonated with something deep inside her.
He brought the sword to her, holding it out in both open hands. Magda reached up and touched the hilt, running her fingers over the raised letters of the word Truth.
She stretched both hands toward it, wanting it, needing it. Merritt let her lift it from his hands.
Magda laid the blade down the length of her body, feeling the satisfying weight of it against her. The hilt rested on her chest just beneath her chin. At that moment, after all she had been through, it was more comforting than any blanket. Knowing that it was now complete was gratifying beyond words.
She held the hilt with both hands, letting the deep satisfaction of knowing that they had done it seep through her.
Merritt had accomplished the near impossible. The key was complete. Magda had managed to do her small part to help him and as a result the Sword of Truth was now complete.
Though she was ungifted, she could clearly feel the power of the magic the sword now possessed. It was power unlike anything she had ever imagined. It churned the way the storm had. It held more power than the storm had. It was fury and rage and love and life all folded together, over and over, blending them into the finest layers of something new, something remarkable.
This was now a weapon unlike any other, more than any other.
It felt so good holding it, knowing that they had done it, that she never wanted to let it go.
Magda let out a deep breath of contentment and, with the Sword of Truth held in both hands, lying down the length of her, listening to the steady drumming of rain on the roof, she allowed herself to succumb to sleep.
Chapter 68
“Are you sure that you’re all right?” Merritt asked in a quiet voice as they made their way up the broad hallway. “I know I would feel more confident in your recovery if you had gotten more rest. You’ve been through quite an ordeal.”
This section of the Keep was reserved for the Home Guard. The hall was simple stone block walls, beamed ceilings, and plank floors. There were barracks, dining halls, and assembly rooms down various corridors. As they passed intersections, she saw that some of the halls were filled with soldiers. Iron brackets held torches with flames that flapped in the breeze as they passed. The hall smelled musty, punctuated with the heavy aroma of pitch each time they passed a hissing torch.
Two soldiers in polished armor breastplates over blue tunics, their heads bent close in a confidential conversation, were walking swiftly toward them. Magda waited until they passed and were out of earshot before she answered Merritt.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Really. Stop asking me, would you?”
As they marched down the long corridor Merritt glanced over with a skeptical expression but didn’t answer. From time to time he looked over at her out of the corner of his eye, as if checking to make sure she was still upright.
Magda wished it weren’t so late. She had slept the entire day, and on into the night. No matter how much she might need rest, she didn’t want to sleep any more. She was strong enough to do what had to be done. That was all that really mattered at the moment.
“Don’t I look fine?” she asked.
Merritt finally smiled. “Yes, you certainly do look fine.” His face reddened. “I mean, you look like you’ve regained your strength.”
Magda smiled at his look of embarrassment.
Truth be told, she didn’t feel at all fine. She was so exhausted that she could hardly put one foot in front of the other, but she was more concerned that the sorceress from the Old World might be executed before they could get to her. It might be their only chance to get information about what the enemy was up to. She couldn’t afford to worry about how tired she was when there was so much at stake.
Despite the late hour, she expected General Grundwall to still be up. She knew him to be ferociously dedicated to his duty of protecting the Keep and those who lived and worked there. She remembered Baraccus often reminding General Grundwall to get some sleep or he wouldn’t be good for anything. The man rarely took the gentle reminders to heart.
By the clusters of men crowded around the archway to the Home Guard’s headquarters, she was sure he would be there. Some of the soldiers in blue tunics and light armor clutched papers or scrolls, waiting to give the general their reports. Other men were gathering for their patrols. The dozens of reflector lamps along the stone walls outside the archway reflected sparkles of light off polished armor and weapons that all the men carried. It was a decidedly male environment that made her feel out of place.
As Magda and Merritt made their way up the corridor, past soldiers coming and going as well as clusters of men discussing their work and their plans for the night, she spotted the general coming out of the arched opening to his headquarters. He was average height, but built like an oak tree, with thick arms and a neck that started flaring right from his ears down into his broad shoulders. She thought that he looked like a man who could shove a mountain aside if it was in his way.
He spoke to various people with brief, direct orders, sending men on specific types of patrols, or telling officers how he wanted watches run, or taking papers with reports from waiting men even as he was talking to others. He scanned each report and thanked the man giving it. Before long he had a sheaf of papers in his big fist.
When General Grundwall spotted Magda weaving her way through the swarm of soldiers, his face lit up with a big grin.
Magda instantly went on alert.
The general smiling like that was out of character. He was a serious soldier, healthy and fit despite the gray at his temples. He often rode with his men or walked miles and miles of patrols through the Keep with them, up and down countless stairs as he checked that his people were safe. He was focused and serious. He was not a man to smile casually.
Since the strange deaths at the Keep, he was, if anything, short-tempered. He felt that the murders reflected poorly on him personally. That the deaths continued put him continually on edge.
But here he was grinning as if he were at a ball and full of wine.
“Lady Searus! So glad to see you,” he said as he rushed up to her.
Merritt, standing beside her, made the general look not nearly as big and muscular as she had always thought of him.
“General Grundwall, can we speak privately? I need to ask you something.”
“Of course, of course,” he said, still grinning as he gestured expansively, urging her into an alcove to the side that held several statues of famous soldiers from history.
Before she could say anything, the general, still grinning, did.
“I must congratulate you, Lady Searus.”
If Magda had been on alert before, now she was alarmed. Again, the general spoke before she had a chance to ask what he meant.
“It’s wonderful news, simply wonderful. Just what the Keep needed. It lifted the gloom.”
Magda was not merely bewildered, she was becoming ever more apprehensive. She thought it best to be as careful as possible.
“And how did you hear the news, General?”
He straightened with a proud grin and hooked his thumbs on his weapons belt. “Prosecutor Lothain told me himself.”
Magda had to force herself not to act startled. “He did?”
General Grundwall nodded. He glanced around to make sure no one was close enough to hear him.
“I have to say, I’ve been worried about matters here at the Keep, but now, with you to marry our new First Wizard, I have been put at ease.” He held up his hand as he glanced around again. “Don’t worry, I haven’t told my men yet that Lothain is to be named First Wizard. I know that the news is supposed to be saved for an announcement at the council session.
“But the biggest news, as far as I’m concerned, is that you will once again be the wife of our First Wizard. I can’t tell you how relieved I am at that news.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Magda shared a look with Merritt.
She couldn’t help herself. “Why are you relieved?”
His brow lifted. “Lady Searus, you are widely respected. You may not be aware of it, but your word is widely listened to and valued. People know of all the times you have spoken with measured reason before the council, oftentimes being their conscience. You have always spoken for those who have no voice before the council. That has earned you the quiet respect of many people in the Keep.
“A lot of people had doubts about Lothain, and what you had to say about him before, and, well, your words put voice to the concerns of many. At the same time, though, there are others who believe in Lothain, believe that he is our savior for going after all the traitors among us. Those people, who believe in Lothain, would like to cut your throat. I have worried greatly for your safety because true believers are often quite vicious.
“But Lothain explained it all to me. He made it clear how your grief over Baraccus’s suicide weighed terribly on your nerves, that’s all. As he says, such deep grief can make even good people act out in misguided ways and so they must be forgiven.
“But by your marrying him, it will settle the matter and end any misgivings about Lothain being named First Wizard. People will be very pleased to have the reassurance of your confidence in him. After all, you’re marrying him!” He thumped his chest with a fist. “I’m reassured and pleased! I have to tell you, it will really quiet things down in the Keep. I can’t tell you how happy I am for you, and that you once again are to be wife to the First Wizard.”
Magda did her best to conceal her rage.
“And who have we here?” the general asked as his typical suspicious gaze turned to Merritt.
“I’m Merritt,” Merritt said with a pleasant smile, a smile that she could see was forced.
Merritt held out his hand. General Grundwall, still looking suspicious, shook the hand.
“Merritt is a maker,” Magda said, drawing the general’s attention back to her. “Since I have no use for them, I am giving Baraccus’s tools to Merritt, here. He will be able to put them to good use.”
“Ah,” the general said with a nod indicating that his suspicion had been allayed. “Well that’s a nice thing to do. I’m sure that First Wizard Baraccus would have wanted that.”
“That’s what I thought,” Magda said.
General Grundwall leaned close. “Now, what was it you wanted to ask me?”
Magda was taken off guard, and her mind suddenly raced for an answer.
If this man was now on the side of Lothain, she couldn’t very well trust him to take her to see the sorceress that Lothain was intent on putting to death. She momentarily considered taking him into her confidence and telling him that she had no intention, under any circumstances, of marrying Lothain. She was furious at Lothain for having the audacity to tell people that she was going to marry him.
As he stared at her, waiting for her answer, she reminded herself to focus. She couldn’t take the chance of trusting him.
“Well,” she said, “I was taking Merritt to show him Baraccus’s tools, like I said. We were passing nearby, and I hoped to run into you. I wanted to ask you if you had found the man who had murdered Isidore, the spiritist.”
“Oh, the spiritist.” The general frowned. “No. We’ve not been able to find anything at all. Even more disturbing, she is not the only one to be murdered in such a horrific fashion.”
Magda let out a disappointed sigh. “I’m sorry to hear that the killer is still on the loose in the Keep. I was hoping he would have been caught by now.”
The general nodded grimily. “A number of wizards working in the lower parts of the Keep, and even a few a bit higher up, have been murdered.”
“Murdered. By ‘murdered,’ do you mean... murdered like Isidore was murdered? In that same fashion?”
“That’s right. Ripped apart. They aren’t the only ones. I’ve had two patrols killed as well.”
Surprised, Magda leaned in a little. “Patrols? You mean soldiers? Armed soldiers?”
He folded his meaty arms. “That’s right. One of the patrols had three men, then several days later a patrol of four men was also attacked and killed. They were torn apart. Blood, guts, and brains everywhere in the hallway where their remains were found. We didn’t even know which body parts went with which men. We couldn’t even identify the remains, and only determined who they were when we took a head count.”
“Dear spirits,” she whispered. “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry to hear about this. And you have no suspects?”
“None. None at all.” His gaze had turned abruptly penetrating and uncomfortable. “And you say the man who did it, the man you saw kill Isidore, was a dead man?”
Magda shrugged, trying not to be argumentative. This was not the time or place. There were more important considerations.
“He looked dead to me. That’s all I can tell you. I suppose that maybe he was just disheveled and filthy. Maybe he used magic. Maybe that’s why he appeared so strong and could do what he did.”
“Ah.” The general nodded thoughtfully. “That makes sense.”
“It’s quite frightening to hear that no one has been caught.”
He peered at Merritt for a moment and then again eyed Magda carefully. “Are you all right? You look... I don’t know, tired.”
“I am tired, I’m afraid. A lot has been going on in my life recently.”
His grin returned. “I understand.”
Magda could feel her renewed flash of anger heat her face.
“Well, I must be going. Merritt here wants to pick up his tools and be on his way. I probably should get some rest.”
“Of course, Lady Searus,” the general said with a bow of his head. “Once again, my congratulations on your imminent marriage to our soon-to-be new First Wizard. I’m sure that everyone else at the Keep will be just as happy and relieved at this news as I am. People think a great deal of you, and will be encouraged by your decision.”
Magda nodded. “Thank you, General Grundwall.”
Before he could say anything else, Magda turned and headed away. Merritt jumped to quickly follow after her and stay at her side.
Chapter 69
Magda fisted her hands in fury as she marched away. She and Merritt passed groups of soldiers coming in the other direction as she resolutely made her way down the stone corridor.
“What was all that about?” Merritt finally asked. He sounded about as angry as she felt.
“Isn’t it obvious? There must have been opposition to Lothain being named First Wizard. Apparently, he’s trying to quell dissent, shore up his support, and win people over. It appears to be working. Grundwall thinks it’s going to be good for the people of the Keep. Lothain is no doubt counting on just that attitude.
“He probably thinks that when I see how pleased everyone is, how it eases tensions and reassures people in a time of crisis, I will have no choice but to go along with his plan. He knows that I care about the people here. He’s trying to shame me into doing it for the good of the Keep.”
“But you’re not going to actually do it,” Merritt said.
It didn’t sound like a question. Magda frowned over at him. “Are you out of your mind?”
He heaved a sigh of bottled exasperation. “Where are we going, anyway?”
“To the dungeon.”
“The dungeon?” Merritt grabbed her arm and pulled her to an abrupt halt. He checked both ways to make sure none of the soldiers coming and going from the Home Guard headquarters were close enough to hear them. “Are you crazy?”
Magda squared up to him. “Look, Merritt, we’re running out of time. If that woman is still alive, we have to get to her before they execute her.” She threw her hands up. “I already wasted the entire day sleeping, we can’t afford to waste any more time.”
“It wasn’t a waste,” he said in a tone meant to calm her down. “It kept you from dying.”
Magda took a breath, trying to calm her anger over the things the general had said. She didn’t want Merritt to think she was angry with him, or blamed him for what they’d had to do. Merritt was the only one who believed her and he was trying to help. She lowered her voice.
“I suppose, and I’m grateful, I really am. You healed me, and I’m better. I know I need more rest to be back to myself, but right now it doesn’t matter how exhausted I am. We may never get another chance. We have to get to that sorceress.”
Merritt nodded as he visibly cooled off. “I understand and I share your sense of urgency. After all, I’m the one who told you about the sorceress defector in the first place, remember?”
“I remember.”
“So, how do you propose we get in to see her without General Grundwall? They don’t simply let people in to see prisoners.”
A group of soldiers hurried past, eyeing the woman in the midst of their domain. She flashed them a brief, polite smile of greeting. Most of the men returned the smile. Once they were past, Magda pulled the hood of her cloak up over her head and started out once more. She peeked around the edge of the hood at Merritt.
“You heard the general. I’m respected. It’s news to me, but maybe not to the men down in the dungeon. They certainly won’t be expecting a woman—the wife of their dead First Wizard—to show up in their midst in the middle of the night.”
Merritt looked to be getting agitated again. “And what good is that going to do you?”
“Surprise is sometimes the best advantage a warrior can have.”
He eyed her suspiciously. “Where did you hear that?”
“Baraccus told me.”
“He’s right, but this is different from what is typically meant by that saying.”
“That’s why this surprise will work to our advantage.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
Magda took his arm, leaning closer to him as they started down the stone steps of a broad stairway. Their footsteps echoed through the stairwell, so she kept her voice low.
“Merritt, we have to try. Time is working against us. If they haven’t executed her before, or even today while I was sleeping the day away, they will surely behead her soon, maybe even tomorrow. We can’t delay. If they’ve tried her and condemned her to death, they’re not going to keep her alive down in the dungeon for long—a few days at most. Every day we don’t get to her adds to the odds that we never will. Maybe she doesn’t know anything and can’t help us, but what if she does know something about what’s going on here at the Keep, or Emperor Sulachan’s battle plans?
“By the way she was tried without the public knowing about it, someone must have a reason to want to get rid of her. After all, why wouldn’t Lothain want to try her publicly so he could add another executed traitor to his list of heralded accomplishments? Could he be doing a favor? Or protecting someone? Maybe even protecting himself? Why was the trial conducted out of the public eye?”
“I was wondering those same things.” Merritt looked both up and down the stairwell to make sure no one was near. “What we really have to ask ourselves is why they’ve let her live this long.”
“What do you mean?”
“If they charged her with being a spy and sentenced her to death, maybe it’s because someone has a reason to want her dead. Maybe it’s to shut her up. So if that’s true, and they want to shut her up, then why didn’t they just put her to death immediately after finding her guilty?” Merritt leaned closer and arched and eyebrow. “If they want her dead, then why have they kept her alive for this long?”
It dawned on her what Merritt was implying. “You mean you think they’re torturing her? You think they haven’t killed her yet because they’re torturing information out of her?”
“Wouldn’t any spy in the Keep want to know if she has any companions defecting with her, and if she does how much they know about the people Emperor Sulachan might have secretly slipped in here? Nor will killing her solve their problem if she’s already spoken with people here at the Keep and given them names of traitors working on behalf of the emperor. They would need to know that before they killed her, don’t you suppose?”
Magda glanced over at him. “For a traitor, worried about being discovered, finding out how much she knows would be reason enough to torture her.”
Merritt waved a hand. “But this is all speculation. For all we know, maybe she really is a spy, or even an assassin, posing as a defector, intent on using her gift to kill our leaders. Maybe they wanted to keep the trial out of the public eye in order to find any accomplices. Maybe they did a good thing by uncovering her plans. For all we know, they may very well have beheaded her right in the beginning—right after convicting her. We don’t know that she’s even alive.”
“All the more reason to get down to the dungeons as soon as we can. We may never get another chance to find out the truth. Maybe she is an assassin, but maybe she really is a defector who wants to help us. And if they’re torturing her, she may soon enough be as good as dead as far as helping us is concerned.”
Merritt considered her words as they continued down the broad stairs leading to the lower levels. The stairwell was a core passage used by the Home Guard to move quickly between different areas of the Keep. As they kept taking flight after flight down, several patrols passed them going up.
“I don’t like it,” Merritt said after a group of half a dozen soldiers, climbing the stairs two at a time, were far enough above them not to be able to overhear, “but I have to admit that what you say makes sense. We won’t know the answers to any of it—if she’s still alive and if she is, is she in any condition to talk to us—unless we get down there and see for ourselves.”
“The thing that worries me,” Magda said, “is that these dungeon guards might not necessarily be the reasonable type.”
“Likely not, actually. That’s why they’re chosen for the task in the first place. Some very nasty criminals and killers are kept down there before being put to death. Those guards need to be tough men.”
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Magda headed to the broadest corridor. It led to the immense chamber down in the heart of the lower Keep. Their shadows from the torchlight rotated around them as they moved swiftly down the simple hall.
“That’s what I mean,” Magda said. “I’m not sure they will have any desire to let us in. But, on the other hand, they are liable to be so surprised to see me down there that we may be able to bluff our way through.”
“I’d prefer that to having to kill them,” he said under his breath.
Magda blinked in surprise. “Kill them? They’re on our side, Merritt. They’re our men.”
“How do you know that? What if the traitors in the Keep had those men placed there to keep the likes of you and me away from their dirty work. You said yourself that something terrible is going on at the Keep and there seem to be a number of people involved. This woman might have some answers about that and that’s why she’s in the dungeon. So who are we up against? Who’s keeping her there? Who is involved in wanting her dead?
“We’re at war. We can’t afford to fail or we could easily end up dead, along with all the innocent people of the Midlands.
“Those guards down there may be our men, or they very well may be working for a traitor—for the enemy. With what we’re doing, we’ve already crossed a lot of lines, here.
“And don’t forget,” Merritt added, “we’re probably dealing with an enemy who stole the power of Orden. This sorceress may know something about all that. She may know who has the boxes or where they are. If we’re really serious, then we can’t be halfhearted. We dare not let this chance slip away, no matter who gets in our way. If we go down there and those guards won’t let us in to see this woman, we may have to end up killing them.”
Magda sighed in frustration. “You’re right. If we don’t discover the enemy’s plans before it’s too late, everyone could die. The risk is too great. We’re going to have to do what is necessary.” She looked over at him as they turned down a carpeted corridor. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“Hope isn’t a plan. We have to get in and to do that we may need to kill the guards.”
“I’d rather bluff my way in.”
“If it works, I’m with you. But I need to be ready to have your back.”
“Magic doesn’t work in the dungeon,” she reminded him. “The dungeons are shielded to prevent any gifted prisoner from using magic to escape, or from any gifted ally of a prisoner from getting in and using their magic to break them out. Down in the dungeons, it’s muscle that matters. That’s why they have the kind of guards they do down there.”
Without looking over at her, he said, “The sword will still work down there. When they crafted the shields, they didn’t shield against the magic I invested in the sword.”
“How do you know?”
“Because it didn’t exist at the time. No one had ever thought of the kind of power I put into the sword until I did. It never existed until I created it, so it’s impossible for them to have shielded against it.”
“So if you have a way to defeat our shields, it would be foolish to think the enemy didn’t as well.”
“That thought had occurred to me.”
Magda nodded, already thinking about the journey down into the lower reaches of the Keep, into the place of the dead.
Chapter 70
Magda’s legs ached from the long descent down into the place of the dead. She was so exhausted that at times she thought she might fall over. She knew that what she was feeling was more than normal fatigue. She hated to think about the eventual long climb back up.
Magda knew that Merritt was telling her the truth about needing rest to complete her recovery from the ordeal of creating the key. Healing alone hadn’t been enough. From little things he had done at the time, to hints in the way he had acted, she suspected that the use of her blood and life force in the effort to create the key had come close to costing her her life.
Before she could rest, though, they needed to get down to the dungeon. That was the prime concern. If the sorceress was still alive, they had to talk to her.
The deserted corridor they hurried through, carved from banded, tannish sandstone, created a maze of twisting passageways. None of the walls were square or straight. For the most part, the passageways were little more than a warren of tunnels gouged out through the stone.
She hadn’t been in these particular underground passages the last time she’d come down into the catacombs. This area was considerably deeper beneath the section she’d been in before, where not only were there resting places for the dead, but rooms where wizards also worked. That level was also where Isidore’s place had been.
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