Chapter 23, enjoy!

Chapter 23: Stake-Out

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“The Mages’ Council is an organisation shrouded in mystery. It is a circle of the leading authorities of magick in Gar’nashia. What little we know of the Council is that only one expert from every field of magick may hold a seat. These men – or women – may be few, but they are powerful, as it is to be expected.

They alone uphold the balance of the weak-numbered magickal population of our people against the warrior fanatics. Of course, we can speculate the identities of some of these prominent, yet unknown figures. It is believed that the General of Flame himself holds the seat of fire, even after his retirement, though he denies such an organisation even exists, and that if it does, he’s not a part of it.”

- Gar’nashian tabloid article on the Mages’ Council

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Kha’na shifted uneasily as she hid in the shadows, her eyes fixed attentively on a particular building in a dilapidated part of the city. She was clad in full black garb to reduce her chances of being detected. Her master had ordered her to assist the joint effort between the Cult and the Gar’nashian government to smoke out and capture any individuals that were suspected to be working for the Abyss.

The reason for her discomfort was the company she was holding at the moment. The Royal Advisor still didn’t fully trust the small remainder of the Cult, and had assigned a member of his forces to every outfield member of the Cult. Those of the Cult didn’t really show much displeasure at the arrangement, as they were under Draygor’s orders to co-operate, but the other parties made no attempt to hide their discontentment at having to work with them. Kha’na’s current stake-out partner was one of them; he had been eyeing her disapprovingly the whole time.

“Why do you worship the devil?” the male soldier asked, much to Kha’na’s annoyance. The soldier was a few years younger than her, in his early twenties and very much considered an adult. Yet, he still seemed to have an air of naivety around him. He seemed inexperienced in combat, and Kha’na estimated that he most likely had only been placed under patrol duties.

“Why do you worship Her then? My beliefs are my own,” Kha’na snapped back with a hiss, referring to Mhi’ra. She didn’t remove her gaze from the house they were staking out. There had been no activity thus far, but she didn’t deviate from her mission.

“Your beliefs are wrong then,” the soldier replied smugly. “We worship Mhi’ra because she gives us life and hope. Shaitan,” he continued uncomfortably as he mentioned Shaitan’s unholy name, “brings us nothing but death and despair. Only by believing in Her and giving Her our praise will we find salvation after death – ”

“Say another word and I will cut your tongue off,” threatened Kha’na, drawing a dagger and bringing it up to the soldier’s throat. The soldier moved to draw his own sword, but Kha’na pressed the blade of her dagger against his throat, drawing blood and daring him to make a move. “You know nothing, and you’ll do well to watch your words. I know what kind of person you are. You grew up sheltered in a happy family, protected all your life, with everything provided for you. You. Know. Nothing, and your narrowmindedness will get you killed,” she spat, baring her teeth in anger. “Now, will you shut your trap and make yourself useful?”

The soldier gulped noticeably, opening his mouth to give a reply, but Kha’na pushed her dagger against the miniscule gap between his scales again with a little more strength. “What did I say about not making noise?” she questioned, reiterating her previous point. The soldier thought better of it, closing his mouth and giving a nervous nod in acknowledgement. Suddenly, he opened his mouth again, glancing at Kha’na urgently.

“What is it? Spit it out!” Kha’na asked impatiently. The soldier glanced down at the dagger still at his throat, and she withdrew it with a sigh. As the blade left his skin, the soldier staggered back, putting a hand up to the new wound on his neck as he caught the breath he had been holding. He looked at the blood staining his fingers and began to shiver uncontrollably; he was clearly afraid of blood. Another sigh escaped Kha’na’s lips as she stepped up to her incapacitated partner, giving him a slap on the face to calm him down from his shock.

His eyes seemed to regain their focus at her sudden blow, though he didn’t stop shaking like a leaf. “T-there was some movement in the house,” he stammered out, attempting to draw his sword so that they could move to inspect the suspicious activity.

“Why didn’t you say so earlier?” chided Kha’na, drawing the second in her pair of daggers. She started towards the building, before stopping and turning on her heel as she realised she’d forgotten something. “You… should stay here,” she looked over her companion, who was in no state to go anywhere. “I’ll go check it out. I’ll be back soon,” she instructed. He would be a burden if he came with her in such a helpless state. The soldier acknowledged her instructions as he slumped against the wall, trying to calm his nerves.

Kha’na crept as silently as she could toward the run-down building. It was still bright out, but the buildings in the district were built extremely close to one another to save precious space, causing the alleyways to be perpetually darkened by their shadow. She observed that there seemed to be no movement of any sort through the windows or around the house. Perhaps the soldier had hallucinated something in his fear-fuelled hysteria, she surmised. Still, it was better to confirm any sightings of what they were searching for.

To Kha’na’s luck, one of the windows on the first floor of the building was open. It would have been her last resort to enter through the front door; she didn’t want to give away her position right away. She craned her neck, peering through the window to get a better view of the interior whilst trying to stay relatively hidden. The window led into what seemed like the former living room of the house. The place was in no condition for someone to live in – cobwebs and mountains of dust decorated every surface. Other than a few scant pieces of broken furniture, the room was empty.

Satisfied that there didn’t seem to be any place for a person to hide, Kha’na climbed through the window, landing on the wooden floor with a small puff of dust. She held back a tremendous sneeze as the dust entered her nostrils, heaving a sigh of relief when she didn’t catch the attention of the whole neighbourhood. Another step forward revealed that the floorboards creaked a little. While the sound would normally be overlooked if the house was inhabited, the silence meant that the noise was overbearing. This meant that if there was someone else in the house, they were now alerted to her presence.

Cursing herself for the errant mistake, Kha’na stood still for a moment, paying close attention to her surroundings. Again, she heaved a sigh of relief when no one came rushing from the other rooms. “Perhaps there really wasn’t anyone in the house”, she thought. She began to explore the first floor of the house, but found nothing except for more rotting furniture and the occasional sign of vermin. The second story didn’t prove to be in any better condition.

“Damn… this is creepy…” observed Kha’na in disgust. The room she’d entered had obviously been a child’s playroom, with scattered toys and a cot in the corner. “Something died here recently,” she noted, the familiar scent of death in the musty air. Kha’na took a step forward, feeling thoroughly creeped out. Children always seemed to make a hair-raising situation even more sinister. Like when her master had sat up after she’d stabbed him deep enough that a normal child would have died.

The thought brought a small smile to her lips. “What would master think if I called him creepy?” she wondered in amusement. A sudden flicker out of the corner of her eye brought those thoughts to a halt. With as much speed as she could muster, Kha’na turned to face the new arrival, raising her daggers. She managed to bring her daggers up in time to block a blow, though it sent her crashing into the far end of the room. She grunted in pain as the rotted floorboards broke from the impact, and she watched helplessly as one of her blades skittered away from her.

“Shaitan damn it!” Kha’na cursed under her breath as she picked herself up, nearly doubling over in pain. A large splinter was embedded in her side, and the loss of blood was causing her vision to become hazy. Her opponent was a Gar’nashian woman who looked to be in her late thirties. The woman’s eyes were pure black, and her physique was that of a housewife’s. Still, the woman had managed to sneak up on her without a single sound, and that was not something that a normal housewife could do. A sinister smile adorned the woman’s features, and Kha’na watched as the woman made her way to the dagger she’d lost. The woman picked it up gingerly, and without a moment’s pause, snapped the thick steel weapon like a twig.

Kha’na watched in horror as her adversary tossed the remnants of the weapon aside, turning to face her instead. The female Gar’nash deliberately took her time to move towards Kha’na, seeing that the latter was rapidly losing blood, and in no condition to fight back. It was as if the woman took great pleasure in watching Kha’na squirm in fear, as evidenced by the wide, sadistic grin upon her face.

“Stay back!” Kha’na warned weakly as she waved her remaining dagger around in an attempt to slow her attacker. Her efforts were to no avail, as the floorboards creaked under the woman’s advance.

The sound of splintering wood and hurried footsteps interrupted their battle. Someone had broken down the door to the house and was bounding up the steps. The woman’s face twisted in annoyance, and that was the last thing that Kha’na saw before the woman darted forward to smash a fist into her gut, rendering her unconscious from the pain.

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“Nhi’la seems nice,” Dhi’na said as they made their way back home from the Academy. Draygor found the afternoon classes to be much more boring than Durand’s class. Nothing as interesting as Durand’s attack had happened, though apparently he’d made enough of an impression for most of the teachers to give him their permission to skip their introductory classes.

“She’s a little too bubbly for me to stand sometimes,” Draygor admitted. The girl shared the same magickal classes as him, and while she did make lessons less mundane with her constant chittering, it was tiring trying to keep up with her seemingly boundless reserves of energy. Not to mention her strange obsession with him, though she didn’t know his identity. It was weird listening to her spout random details of his past life. Some of it was wrong too – the history books always made a mistake or two – though he didn’t really point them out.

Dhi’na nodded in understanding. “She is quite energetic, but I like that about her. It’s a nice change from boring old you,” she teased, and Draygor recoiled in mock pain. She laughed aloud at his antics, and soon the both of them were giggling in tandem. Their fun came to an end however, when a soldier in full armour came running up to them. Draygor recognised the soldier as one of those who’d accompanied them during the visit to the Cult’s headquarters.

The soldier glanced hesitantly at Dhi’na; clearly he had something to say that wasn’t meant for her ears, and Draygor caught on quickly. “Uh, Dhi’na? Maybe you should go on home first, I have to do something,” he suggested, pushing her gently in the direction of their homes.

“No. I’m going with you,” his childhood friend said, planting her feet into the ground. Draygor’s jaw dropped, speechless. “But… I…” he tried to find words to convince Dhi’na otherwise, but failed. “The last time you went off alone you disappeared for three years! I’m not letting that happen again,” Dhi’na huffed, glaring accusingly at Draygor with a hand on her hips. Draygor considered using magick to persuade her otherwise, but he couldn’t bring himself to use it on his closest friend.

“Sir,” the soldier spoke up abruptly, “I don’t want to interrupt your quarrel, but this is urgent! It’s a matter of life and death, and the Royal Advisor calls for your presence at once!”

“Sir?” Dhi’na asked, curious at the soldier’s choice of words in addressing her friend. Draygor was technically one of the founders of the joint effort to battle the threat of the Abyss in the city, and the soldiers that followed them to the Cult’s headquarters had begun to address him as their superior, though some were reluctant to do so.

Draygor rolled his eyes. “Fine, you can come along,” he mumbled unwillingly, and Dhi’na smiled, pleased at the outcome. She was clearly hell-bent on coming along, and they had no time to spare, according to the soldier. Grabbing Dhi’na’s hand, he dragged her along as the soldier turned to lead the way to their destination.

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“Is she going to be okay?” Dhi’na asked as they observed the court healers working their magick on Kha’na. She seemed strangely calm despite the situation, which couldn’t be said for the soldier standing next to Kha’na who seemed to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Lukas and Stefan were there too, watching with grim faces.

One of the court healers fell back from Kha’na’s side, exhausted from the effort. The healer was deathly pale, having nearly spent her mana reserves on attempting to seal the wound. Healing was a tough job, as the mana required to heal a wound increased exponentially with the size and severity of the injury. The healer stumbled, and Lukas caught her, holding her arm to support her. She gave him a weak smile in thanks, turning to address the rest.

“The wound was deep, but we managed to stop the bleeding for now. We’ve contacted the nearby temples, and with the help of a few of our brothers and sisters, we will be able to close the wound completely. She’ll live, but there’ll be a pretty noticeable scar. That’s the best we can do, I’m afraid. She will need rest,” the court healer explained.

Most healers were associated with the temples of Mhi’ra, as they worked to preserve the life that Mhi’ra had given them. Since only females could live and work in Mhi’ra’s temples, males who practised healing magicks usually ended up making use of their talents in the service of the Queen’s military, or in one of the temples associated with the other gods of the Gar’nash.

“That’s fine,” a voice echoed from the doorway. “Place her in one of the empty quarters. You have my express permission,” the voice added. It was the Queen, in all her royal glory. She was young, seemingly in her mid-twenties. Her horns glittered in the room’s light, and her pure white robes flowed gracefully as she moved towards them.

“Of course, your majesty. We’ll move the wounded as soon as we can,” the healer acknowledged, giving her sovereign a reverent bow, as did the others. “We’ll place her under watch for the next few days as well, in the case of the wound getting infected,” she advised, seeking her Queen’s permission.

“Do what you must, as long as she recovers fully,” the Queen of the Gar’nash concurred, motioning for those in the room to raise their heads with a small wave. “As you wish, your majesty,” the healer replied, giving Lukas another smile of gratitude as she retreated to aid her fellow healers.

“Thank you, your majesty, for willing to aid my companion,” Draygor spoke up gratefully, “especially with her identity, which I’m sure your majesty is aware of.”

“Indeed, I am aware of who your companion is, one in white,” the Queen said, giving him an appraising look. Her comment made it clear that she was aware of Draygor’s past identity as well.

“But who she is does not matter. What matters is that she was injured while acting in the interests of the country. As Queen, I am eternally grateful for her efforts. Now, I’m sure all of us would like to know what exactly happened. I’d ask your companion, but she needs to rest. Perhaps your man will be able to tell us, Stefan,” she continued, addressing her aide by name. Stefan was many years her elder, but she was Queen, and it didn’t seem strange in the least.

“Of course,” Stefan nodded in agreement, motioning the nervous soldier over. “Let us move to a more private location. Perhaps the young lady here can stay to watch over – ”

“I’m coming along!” Dhi’na exclaimed stubbornly, causing Stefan to look over to Draygor for backup. He stared at Draygor, as if trying to say, “Who is she? And what is she doing here?!” Draygor simply averted his gaze, unwilling to accept responsibility. He was helpless against Dhi’na’s insistence, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one to tell her that she couldn’t come along.

“Oh, don’t make a fuss about this, Stefan. Let the little lady come along. Any companion of Draygor’s here is welcome. Besides, wasn’t I around her age when you started teaching me about politics?” the Queen laughed, her regal, graceful demeanour faltering for a moment.

“…” The others blinked, not knowing what to say. Dhi’na gave the Queen a wide grin, which the royal sovereign returned.

“As you wish, your majesty,” Stefan gave in with a sigh, turning to lead the way to a more secure area where they could converse.