Alec let out a sharp sound of pain as he fell to the ground. Yet one more set of bruises to add to his already impressive inventory. He got to his feet only to see his horse wobble unsteadily then collapse. At this rate, he would be out of mounts before he could reach another town and replenish his stock. He had been riding hard toward King's Gorge for two weeks, stopping only to sleep or relieve himself. He chose to eat in the saddle to avoid even that minor delay. This was not the first horse to go lame, and it would not be the last. Whether through coin, theft, or violence, he had been able to forestall the need to walk a single mile of his journey. He was coming close to that now, though. There was only one remount available to him, and though he loathed the idea, he was going to be forced to slow his pace.

He thought of his master's displeasure as he removed the saddle from the crippled beast, and they weren't pleasant thoughts. There was less forgiveness in the man than he had himself. He knew he was not going to beat news of his failure to the Gorge, but he had vital information and could not risk it failing to reach his master. It was his fervent hope that by bringing the news in person, he might mitigate the severity of his punishment. The border between Dilis and Ard was not far off, and from there, it was only a week’s ride to the Gorge. He saddled the remount and set off at a much-reduced speed.

He rode until the last remnant of sunlight faded below the barren plains he was traveling. He was bone-weary, and his body protested every step the god-forsaken horse took. He decided it was time to get his sore ass out of the saddle. Pulling on the reigns, he drew the horse to a stop and had one leg over the pommel when he spotted a light in the distance. His vision was blurry from fatigue, and it was hard to make anything out beyond a few yards, but it looked like there were silhouettes of buildings. Damn fool, he thought, you've gone and reckoned wrong. You're already at the border. If he hadn't seen the dim light, he might have spent an unnecessary night curled beneath his bedroll. He was making excellent time indeed, and the thought of a bath, bed, and a hot meal compelled him to put his foot back in the stirrup and push on.

He recognized where he was as he approached the small town. It didn't have a name, as far as he was aware, though it was one of the main arteries for smuggling between the two provinces. The inhabitants did not actually consider themselves part of either Dilis or Ard, and no one had ever challenged the notion. The main street was packed dirt, and his horse's hooves made soft thudding noises as he rode. The buildings were ramshackle and badly in need of repair. Everywhere he looked, there were sagging roofs, hanging doors, and in the more extravagant buildings, broken windows. Of course, a building only had to be standing straight to be considered extravagant here. Nowhere did he see even a hint of stonework. From looking at it, no one would ever think a river of money flowed through the place. As he rode down the street, still busy even at this late hour, he was aware of the looks his disheveled appearance was attracting. His vanity could endure this torture no more.

He stopped at a building, the sign rather brazenly proclaiming it the Smuggler's Den. It had the same forlorn look of every other building, but it stood out as being the only two-story structure on the street. He climbed down from the saddle and brushed some of the road dust off his clothes. A voice came to him from behind.

“Stable the horse, sir?”

So startled was he, that he whipped around and pulled a full foot of steel before realizing the voice belonged to a young boy. Short and whipcord thin, the boy was obviously the stable hand. It was apparent he noticed the half-drawn sword because he backed away a step. Alec was too tired to give a shit about whether or not he scared the boy and just threw him the reigns.

“How long for sir,” the boy asked, taking up the now limp lead.

“How long is my business boy! Just put the horse in the damn stable.”

He walked into the inn and was pleasantly surprised by the bright interior. There was a roaring fire that erased the chill of the northern air. The tables were mismatched and uneven, but they were aligned in neat rows, and patrons filled most of the seats. He walked up to a large counter that served as the bar and laid his pack on it.

He was greeted by a tall and extremely fat woman. Her face was severe, but when she spoke, there was laughter in every syllable.

“Good evening to you,” she said cheerily.

Alec mumbled something in reply and surveyed the room; it was his habit to evaluate potential threats wherever he went. This room was full of men and women in various stages of drunkenness. Most of them were utterly harmless, but he spotted a couple of massive bruisers leaning against the back wall. They had the look of men who knew their way around a brawl, and Alec met each of their eyes. He held their gaze and tapped the hilt of his sword a couple of times. The two men saw the gesture and looked at each other. Exchanging a couple of shrugs and grunts, they nodded back at him. Message received, they would not cause him trouble.

When he turned back to the bar, the fat woman was still there waiting patiently for him to finish his survey.

“I take it you'll be wanting a meal, and perhaps a bath.” If she was fazed by his wariness, she didn't show it.

“Yes,” Alec said. “And a room.”

The woman threw back her head. “Bed, bath, and a meal,” she sang merrily, “music to my ears! That's four for the bath, eight for the meal, and a big shiny silver one for the room.”

Alec grunted. Two silver and two copper wasn't cheap, but he dropped the money on the counter and allowed himself to be led away to the bath. When he returned to the common room, he was a much more impressive man. Gone were the road-worn rags he had been living in for the last weeks. The laundress that took them mentioned something about mending, but he ordered her to throw them into the first fire she came to. At her indignant look, he threw here a copper penny. It's incredible how a little hot water and soap can transform a man's spirit, he thought. He rested his hand on his sword as he walked. The leather of the scabbard was now scrubbed and oiled, reflecting the firelight. Even without his doublet and armor, which he left packed away, he looked imposing.

He saw an empty table and sat down. Almost immediately, a serving woman brought his meal. There was a large cut of meat that was charred heavily, some unfamiliar yellow vegetable, and a thick loaf of crusty bread. It was an elegant looking dinner after so many days of dried meat. When the attractive woman set down his drink, he took a more appraising look. He thought, perhaps, he would take a little time for dessert.

Alec picked up the dull looking knife that was meant for the meat. He eyed it critically and then tossed it back on the table. Remembering some bitterly learned lessons, he removed his finely honed dagger. Never be without a weapon. At the first bite, the rest of his concerns melted away. The food was fantastic!

From time to time, a patron would try to join him, but a few harsh looks or grunts were enough to convince them that better company would be found elsewhere. He was nearly finished eating when a huge man entered the room. He glanced at Alec, and then strode purposefully to the two brutes he noticed earlier.

Alec watched the three men argue animatedly for a few minutes. They must have come to some understanding because they walked as a group toward his table. So much for not causing him any trouble. He propped his leg against the underside of the table and gripped the dagger in his left hand. The large man took the center position, directly in front of him, and the two brutes stationed themselves to either side. Alec pretended not to notice and kept eating.

“I'll be having words with you!” the big man roared.

Alec pretended he hadn't heard and kept on eating. The big man puffed up and roared again.

“I said I'll be having words with you! You'll want to watch how yer talkin' to the young folk 'round here. Especially if they happen ta belong to me!”

Alec set down his fork and looked up casually.

“So the impudent whelp is yours then?” he asked in an offhanded tone. “I guess you should teach him to mind his business. Maybe try beating him more often. It has always worked with the dogs I've tried to train.”

The bruisers stayed still, but the big man fumed and stomped about for a minute before pulling a large blade from behind him.

“It's you that's gonna get the beatin'! Now I'll have a gold mark from ya, and we can call it square. Then you can be on your way.”

Alec laughed bitterly. This was probably the worst extortionist he had ever met. Yet despite his ineptitude, he had put Alec in an untenable position. It was either cow to the man's demands and leave, or kill the fool and leave. Not liking either option, he chose the one most enjoyable.

Without a word, he threw the dagger at the man on his left. He heard a metallic clink and the meaty thud of impact as he pushed with his leg, sending the table and his chair in opposite directions. The table knocked the big man off balance. As he slid backward, he stood and drew his sword. He made an awkward cut at the man on his right. It was poorly aimed and had little of his natural strength. It seemed that fortune was to favor the bold, though, because he saw the blade slice neatly across the front of the man’s neck. The copious amounts of blood that spurted from the wound told him that he had struck the artery there. The man grabbed at the wound franticly. He would be dead in minutes.

The speed and viciousness of his attack took the entire room by surprise. The big man fell to his knees and dropped his sword. Alec paid the groveling man no attention as he picked it up and walked to the door.

“Have my horse brought around,” he said, not even breathing hard.

The door burst open, and the groom came running in. He went to his father and hugged him. They would have both survived, but the attractive serving maid chose that moment to make an appearance. Not only was he not going to get his bed, but now he wasn't going to get his dessert either. He looked at the blade in his hand and then threw it at the big man's back. It spun a few times before striking. The force of the throw was so great that it went straight through the man and impaled the boy as well. Without a glance at the dying men, he left.

The remainder of his trip passed without incident, but as he grew near the gorge, a feeling of trepidation grew I his gut. When he came in sight of the sprawling town that surrounded his master's abode, the trepidation gave way to fear, then outright panic. The entire town was surrounded by a wooden palisade, and he could see the beginnings of a stone wall being erected. There was an opening in the palisade that appeared to be the entrance. Where the wall ended on each side, there stood a small guardhouse. Smoke from forges, houses, and campfires mingled together and choked the air. It was an eerie sight. Though there was a stiff breeze, the smoke just hung in place, and though it had been getting colder by the day, here, the heat was nearly stifling. Through the haze, he could see the outline of the looming fortress his master called home.

It was the height of arrogance, Alec thought, that his master had chosen to build his fortress on the very spot and from the remains of the former King's castle. Whether by divine providence or some trick of magic, the tower that held the throne room and personal chambers of the king had stayed intact. If rumors were to be believed, his master had taken that tower for his own. Deciding on the spot to flee, he turned his horse. Before he could complete his turn, he was spotted by a sentry.

“Ho there!” He shouted.

He sighed. It was so tiresome, this constant getting backed into a damn corner. First the asinine mage, then the filthy stable master, and now a lowly sentry, of all people. A little of the fear was washed away by the anger growing in him. He rode up to the gate and spoke in his most superior voice.

“I am Alec Lynch of Dilis. I am here to see Lord Taian on a matter of great importance!”

The sentry's eyes narrowed, and he let out a sharp whistle. A dozen armed guards spilled out of the nearby buildings. They were all equipped with crossbows and garbed in thick leather armor. At each of their belts hung a short sword. The irony of the situation was not lost on Alec as the crossbowmen trained their weapons on him.

“We have special instructions regarding your arrival. Dismount and hand over your weapons.”

Now was not the time to fight. Though some of these men were young enough to barely qualify as such, most had the look of experienced killers. He should know. It was a look he saw often enough in the mirror. He unsheathed his sword and tossed it on the ground. He went to do the same with his dagger only to discover he had left it in his haste to leave that inn. It just wasn’t going to be his day. He would obey and see how things played out. If his master wanted him dead, then he was dead. It was really that simple. Slowly he dismounted.

“You will follow us.” The sentry said as he selected two of his men to remain on watch.

The guards filed in, four to each side and two behind. Alec followed silently. The smoke stung his eyes, making it hard to see clearly while the acrid air made it hard to breathe, and he was wracked with fits of coughing. The pollution seemed not to bother either the guards or the inhabitants. Gods, how long would someone have to live like this to become used to it? It was a question he hoped to never answer. The column made quite the spectacle as they walked, but they seemed to attract little attention. People went about their business with downcast eyes and sullen determination.

Alec paused to watch a small girl being beaten near a small shop front. She cried out piteously, but no one paid any notice. One of the trailing guards must have been irritated by his delay because he shoved him roughly in the back.

“Enough!” Alec shouted.

Alec turned. The man's arm was outstretched in the process of another shove. He grabbed the proffered hand and pulled him close. As the distance between the two men closed, Alec raised his knee and struck him in the groin. Before he could do more, the others were on him. The beating seemed to last forever. When it was over, he was bleeding profusely from his mouth and nose, and his hands were now shackled. He noticed with some satisfaction one of his guards was helping his victim to his knees, deftly dodging a large pool of vomit. He was hauled roughly to his feet, and the sentry sidled up to him.

“It's lucky for you you're wanted alive,” he hissed.

A massive fist struck the back of his head, and the world went dark. When he regained consciousness, he was in a large room with a high ceiling. His hands were unbound, his wounds had been tended, and the delicious smell of food permeated the air. His head was pounding mercilessly, and his eyes would not focus properly. There was an indistinct figure sitting across the table eating slowly. Several minutes passed in silence before the man finally spoke.

“You appear to have been through quite the ordeal,” he said.

The man's voice alternated between a smooth tenor and a painful sounding rasp. It was like he could not maintain a steady tone. Alec tried to croak a reply, but the pain in his head increased at the minute sound, and he was overcome with nausea.

“No need to talk,” the diner said. This time the voice was all rasps. “For now, it is time for you to listen. I have been informed of your foolishness. And I am not pleased. Not pleased at all. With only a little patience, I would own that land. With a little good fortune, I would have had the stone shortly after. If what I hear is to be believed, your stupidity was witnessed by a mage.”

There was a short pause while the man appeared to catch his breath.

“A mage!” He bellowed. “There are not so many of us that we can afford these kinds of mistakes!”

Alec tried again to speak. The pain allowed him to speak a short sentence before the next wave of nausea.

“But Lord, there is no way he can know who you are.”

“No way?” asked Taian. “Have you forgotten that I served with Aedon Hall? Have you forgotten that I killed his soon to be father-in-law? The presence of this mage means we can no longer achieve our goals by stealth. I failed with the father, you failed with the son. It appears I have been forced to move into the open sooner than planned. I despise being cornered.”

Again Alec recognized the irony. It was just going to be one of those days. He heard footsteps behind him and looked in their direction. Two men approached. They were covered from head to toe in black cloth, and there were odd chains wrapped around the waste of each man. An object, much like a meat hook, hung from the ends. They stopped a long distance from the table and stood perfectly still. He turned back to his master. He was obviously concussed, and the motion brought nausea forcefully back. Despite the continued pain, his vision cleared, and he could see his master clearly for the first time. His complexion was grotesque. There was a brown, flaky, and dried something that passed for his skin. His head missed being utterly bald due to a few wispy strands of hair growing from random locations. The only things that looked healthy were his eyes. They were bright and intelligent, but of a hue, he could not identify. There was a large gold necklace hanging around his neck. From it hung a large opalescent oval stone, and below that hung a smaller clear oval stone.

“There is a sliver of good in matters,” Taian croaked. “Through your actions, we now know of the mage.”

When a man is drowning, he will grab any hope of salvation, and Alec grasped this statement desperately.

“Yes, my lord. That is why I have traveled so far. To tell you of him.”

“That is the only reason? I seriously doubt it.” It appeared the conversation was wearing on Taian because his voice no longer switched to the occasional tenor. “But you are responsible for the discovery nonetheless, and you should be rewarded for it.”

Alec could not believe his ears. Not only was he not going to die, but he was also going to be honored.

“Thank you, my lord,” he said breathlessly.

“Yes,” Taian responded, “there are plans to be made, and you will be instrumental in them. I would like you to stay here as my guest while preparations are made.”

“Of course, my lord!” Alec practically shouted. “Nothing would make me happier.”

“I am glad to hear it,” was the only response.

The moment stretched painfully. Alec was beginning to suspect he was missing something. There was a slight shuffling behind him, and he turned. The two men who approached earlier now stood with the chains uncoiled and the hooks in their hands. He was definitely missing something. He turned back to Taian, and his master struck.

Taian flung out his hand, and the clear stone emitted a bright light. A gust of wind hit Alec squarely in the chest and knocked him back. He hit the floor and slid neatly between the two men. His first thought was to marvel at the precision of their placement. His next thought was of blinding pain as the men drove the hooks through his palms. He sobbed uncontrollably as he was dragged away. His last sight before he lost consciousness again was of Taian walking calmly away.