Adept (The Essence Gate War, Book 1) - By Michael Arnquist Page 0,173

required was never accomplished without some amount of bloodshed. It was unlike him, however, to enter into such a crucial arrangement without an ironclad set of safeguards in place. How had he––

“My lord?” Lorenth interrupted his thoughts in a quavering tone.

“What is it?” Morland snapped.

“Y-you are certain that the creatures will pass over your estate?”

The merchant opened his mouth to snarl an affirmative, and then paused. He had been given that assurance, at least. Indeed, the Nar’ath had demonstrated their commitment to their arrangement by ensuring that his trade caravans were no longer molested, while those of his rivals suffered the fate with alarming frequency. Even with that promise, however, he found himself facing sudden gnawing doubts. “Why do you ask, farseer?”

“The creatures have torn your gates asunder, and a great many of them have just entered your grounds.”

Morland shot to his feet. “Are they coming here?” he demanded.

The farseer turned toward him, and Morland gave a start. The man’s eyes had no pupils! Then, as if bobbing to the surface of a calm lake, Lorenth’s pupils reappeared within his pale blue eyes. Of course, the merchant admonished himself; it was just some effect of his strange abilities. Lorenth blinked several times, and the semblance of calm was broken. The blue eyes focused upon Morland.

“I cannot say for certain, my lord,” the young man said in a voice barely above a whisper. “They appeared to be headed this way, but once past the braziers at the gate, they passed into darkness and I could no longer see them.”

Morland stared at him for a long moment, frozen. Then he cursed and spun on his heel, making a curt motion to the guards. The soldiers snapped to attention and pulled the doors open as he approached.

Lulled and betrayed! He ground his teeth in fury as his mind raced over his options. However he had been ensorcelled by the Nar’ath, he was comforted by the fact that he had at least demonstrated some semblance of his customary caution in establishing certain contingent plans. He had a ship at anchor well away from the docks that was waiting for him to signal it in. He could be away from this gods-forsaken land for good. This, however, was not the time to attempt to reach the sea. No, the Nar’ath were too strong and too many; he would have to weather the night in a safe place and make his escape when the opportunity presented itself, after the chaos had subsided. He had a fortified armory at the center of his massive keep, well stocked with provisions. It would serve his needs nicely. A man with means and foresight such as he possessed always had a backup plan.

“M-my lord?”

The thin, tremulous voice of the farseer brought Morland sharply about. He had all but forgotten the meek fellow. His eyes narrowed as he regarded Lorenth.

“What of me, my lord?”

Morland gave him an icy smile. “It seems our business is concluded, farseer. Guards, please see him out the main doors. I believe he can find his way from there.”

Lorenth paled. “My lord, please––!” he stammered as the soldiers took heavy steps toward him.

The merchant turned to go. Lorenth’s voice, rising several octaves and into the shrill range, followed him through the doorway.

“My lord, wait! Wait! I can still be of use to you!”

Morland paused, half turning. “Make it quick and compelling, or you will exit by means of that window instead.”

Lorenth stumbled forward, wringing his hands. “You will need a safe route from the city, my lord,” he said in a rush. “I can help, especially if you wait until daylight. I can use my farsight to reveal which roads lead to safety, and which to certain death.”

Morland regarded him for a long moment, and then a slow, vulpine smile spread across his features. “How very enterprising of you, farseer. I may just make a savvy businessman of you yet.”

Another thunderous blow shook the Nar’ath queen. From the corner of his eye, Amric caught a blur of motion passing by him with inhuman speed before disappearing once more into the swirling sand. An instant later it came again, accompanied by a sharp, cracking report and a keening cry of agony from the queen. One of the claws gripping Amric loosened and fell away from him, and the limb dangled at a broken, useless angle at her side.

Amric took the opportunity to fill his lungs as the crushing grip on his chest slackened enough to allow unrestricted breath.